


Eye Witness

by Soledad



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Tosh deserved a romance, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: What if Toshiko would have been visiting Torchwood One during the Battle of Canary Wharf?
Relationships: Toshiko Sato/Rajesh Singh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Introduction and notes

**Timeline:** Series 2 for Dr. Who, pre-series for Torchwood. The story takes place shortly before and during the 2nd series finale “Army of Ghosts/Doomsday”.  
 **Series:** A post-series addition to "Travellers Tales" series.

**INTRODUCTION**

This story is one of the post-series sequels to “Travellers” Tales” – a slightly AU series of stories, based on the idea that – after “The Aliens of London” – Toshiko Sato spent almost two years travelling with the 9th Doctor. Due to the nature of time travel, everyone but Jack Harkness believes that she was only gone for her weekend off.

In the very first chapter of that series, it is established that while Jack has cut ties with Torchwood One, he is still required to send them regular reports. He usually sends Tosh and/or Owen, so that he can avoid meeting Yvonne Hartman, with whom he has clashed spectacularly and repeatedly in the past.

Nonetheless, Jack prefers to know what is going on at Torchwood One, and he uses the interest Doctor Rajesh Singh, one of Headquarters’ senior researchers, shows for Tosh to gather intel – which puts Tosh into a not very enviable situation.

Canon tells us very little about Rajesh Singh, aside from the fact that at the time of his death in 2007 he was assigned to research and monitor the Void Ship. It is unknown what, if any, other projects he worked on for Torchwood, except for understanding the physiology of the Dogon race. 

He’d also undergone psychic training upon entering Torchwood, and was able to see through the psychic paper’s illusions, and thus foil Rose’s attempt to gather information. He was intelligent and generally pleasant, although also fairly direct and task-oriented; just like Tosh, actually, which would have made them a good match under different circumstances.

Everything else is my invention. Age-wise, I gave him the birth date of Raji James (the actor who played him), which would make him five years Tosh’s senior – again, a good match. I made him a Cambridge graduate, with post-grad studies at Berkeley, California, to give him an excellent education. As a scientific field, I gave him bio-engineering and anthropology, which, I hoped, would fit his research at Torchwood One. He’s supposed to have two PhDs and to speak four languages, including French, German and Punjab (which would be his mother tongue). He’d also be considered to be very good with computers – Torchwood One employees ought to be the best and the brightest, brilliant and versatile. At least those on the top level, and Rajesh was clearly one of them.

Additionally, I gave him a past affair with Yvonne Hartman, based on which he would have got his current position. While he clearly had the qualifications, so had a lot of other people; and they seemed very friendly with each other. Granted, Yvonne appeared to be on first-name-basis with just about everyone, but Rajesh was the only one she addressed by nickname, so I decided that they might have had a thing in the past. By the beginning of “Travellers’ Tales”, however, it’s long over, and she’s more than willing to tolerate Rajesh’s interest in Tosh, in the hope to learn what Torchwood Three might be up to.

A word about the timeline: I’ve consulted several existing timelines on the ‘Net; they turned out quite controversial in some places. So I’ve simply chosen the one that suited the entire series best, added a few elements from the other ones and decided to go with it, since this is an AU anyway. It’s a tight fit, but it works for me.

About Ianto’s presence: Sapphiresheep’s timeline states that he started working for Torchwood One mid-2004. As his father supposedly died in 2002, I assumed that he went to university a year before that event, and then financed his studies by small, temporary jobs, until discovered by Rupert Howarth and hired by Torchwood One, three years later. Given his field of work and skills later at Torchwood Three, I assumed that he studied computer sciences and economics or something similar, finishing his studies as a Torchwood One employee and being accordingly indebted to the Institute.

A book character, Rupert Howarth is called a senior researcher. I specified this, making him Head Archivist of Torchwood One and Ianto one of his numerous assistants. He must have learned all those archiving systems and skills _somewhere_. Also, I assumed that the suits were a requirement for working in the Archives, as no-one else at Torchwood One seems to wear such formal clothes.

As for Lisa Hallett, I made her an engineer with a Master’s degree. Despite Cyberman know-how downloaded into her brain, she needed to have basic skills in order to _use_ that knowledge accordingly. In my concept, Ianto was working on his own degree when Torchwood One was destroyed.


	2. Forewarnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Babur_ is an actually existing restaurant, and it offers the exact dishes mentioned here. No, I was never there myself, but I thought a touch of authenticity would be nice. I just changed the owners. *g*  
> And yes, I know that Jack's supposedly severed ties with London in 2000. I just don't believe it would be possible to do so completely. *points at big, honking AU label*  
> Also, those who’ve read “Special Unit 3” will probably find the artefact Lisa and Tosh are trying to figure out familiar. No, it’s not a coincidence, even though the two stories take place in different alternate universes.

**CHAPTER ONE – FOREWARNINGS**

Tosh hated to go to Torchwood One. Sure, Headquarters itself fascinated her – with all its alien-enhanced, up-to-date tech, its clean, modern lines, its buzzing life that was so different from the dank and often depressing atmosphere of the Hub. But the purpose and the attitude of Headquarters, especially its director, Yvonne Hartman, appalled her. She often wondered how a basically good guy like Rajesh Singh could work for them.

Her relationship with Rajesh was a strange one. It started on a purely professional level: with the fact that Jack wanted her to get info about what Torchwood One was up to. So she used Rajesh’s genuine interest in her to spy on them. She hated to do so, but orders were orders; and besides, they really _needed_ to know.

It wasn’t as if Rajesh would have had an exclusively romantic interest in her, either. He openly admired her abilities as a scientist, too, which was a good feeling. But Tosh was quite sure that Yvonne used Rajesh to spy on Torchwood Three just as Jack used Tosh to spy on Headquarters. It was a twisted thing; nonetheless, Tosh and Rajesh _did_ enjoy each other’s company.

They only became intimate after Tosh’s return from her travelling with the Doctor – an out-of-the-time series of adventures she’d only ever told Jack about. She’d met someone during that time who had to return to his own era, being a fixed point in history, and his loss was something Tosh knew she’d never get over completely. That was why she’d chosen to keep their child, even if she’d had to let her mother raise he boy, in safe distance from Torchwood and everything Torchwood meant.

But life – or rather _work_ – at Torchwood was a lonely affair, and she wasn’t about to reject the small comfort a casual affair with a fine, cultured man could offer. A man who was doing the same kind of work, so she didn’t have to feed him lies. Well, not about the basic nature of her work anyway. She was being very careful _not_ to reveal anything Torchwood-Three-specifics during pillow talk, of course.

Aside from that, it was a satisfying affair between equals and Rajesh a skilled and considerate lover. What else could one expect from a long-distance relationship, meeting the other in every other month – if they were _very_ lucky? It was still the best thing that had happened to her since her return.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
2006 had not been a good year for the UK – or for the rest of the world, either, although Tosh could really only speak of what she’d seen with her own eyes. Which was more than enough, in her opinion, as she had witnessed two of the three major crisises from the front row, to put it that way.

It had all started with the crash of an alien spaceship straight into the Big Ben, on March 26 that year. Tosh had been sent to London by Jack, together with Owen, to participate in some obligatory training for junior Torchwood employees – not that she’d have minded, personally. She’d always loved to go to geek gatherings, to meet fellow braniacs. Despite Jack’s sharp intelligence and vast experience with alien tech, not even he could follow her to the exciting depths of abstract science; a lot of Torchwood researchers _could_. It had been a similar training where she had first met Rajesh Singh, and the two of them hit off at once. It was a shame that they’d become chess pieces in a dominance game between the respective leaders of the two Torchwood branches.

Still, it was always a delight to meet people with the same (or at least similar) brainpower as her own. Owen saw it differently, of course, and he’d got thoroughly sloshed on the previous evening, so that when he’d been summoned to perform the autopsy on the ‘alien pig', Tosh had to stand in for him, or else he’d have gotten into deep trouble. And that was how she’d first met the Doctor.

In hindsight, she always had to laugh a little when she considered how mad Yvonne Hartman would get if she knew that the Doctor had been within her reach. Most people at Torchwood One were literally obsessed with the idea of meeting the Doctor; of capturing Torchwood’s arch enemy, imprisoning him and using his vast powers and knowledge for their own purposes. Not even Rajesh was very different in this aspect.

For her part, Tosh was fairly sure that Headquarters would never be able to confine the Doctor once he wanted to leave, and Jack agreed with her. But she also knew that Yvonne would have _tried_ , and she was known as someone for whom the goal always validated the methods. _Any_ methods. So she was glad that their theory had never been put to the test – so far.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In any case, the failed Slitheen effort to trigger a nuclear war and then sell chunks of a radiation-saturated Earth as fuel on the intergalactic market had only been the beginning. One of the Slitheen, posing as senior MI5 member Margaret Blaine, had not only escaped the destruction of 10 Downing Street, she’d also managed to get elected as the Mayor of Cardiff, of all places! An event that nearly resulted in another nuclear disaster, this time within the city itself.

Jack had known that he Doctor would return and save them, of course – his younger self had played a significant role in the rescue effort, after all. So he’d locked down the Hub to keep his team from running into that younger self of his and contaminating the timeline. Only Tosh had been allowed to leave, and she’d been lucky enough to meet the Doctor again, updating each other about their respective lives, while doing their best to avoid being spotted by a younger Jack. She’d only seen him from afar – a cheerful, carefree, _mortal_ version of him, without the weight of the world upon his shoulders. And while she found she liked his former self, it made her love and respect the Jack she’d known for years even more.

It had been hard on Jack to let the opportunity of meeting the Doctor slip through his fingers. He’d been waiting for that for so long. But doing so would have meant crossing his own timeline, and as a former Time Agent, he knew better than anyone how dangerous _that_ would have been. So he’d held back, but Tosh could see how much it had cost him. He’d retreated more and more behind the role he was playing: behind the loud, flirtatious, larger-than-life Jack Harkness persona, who’d sweep into every scene as if he’d own the place, erecting near-impenetrable walls around the man inside – the man who was lonely and hurting.

Tosh wished she could help him somehow. But after those events, Jack had not let anyone get close to him; not even her. They no longer discussed their respective adventures as the Doctor’s companions… and before the year would end, Jack had surprisingly withdrawn the conditions of Tosh’s freedom – well, _one_ of the conditions anyway: the prohibition to see her family.

“I think you’ve proved yourself more than once in the recent years,” he’d said. “And your grandfather is old. I don’t want to rob him of the chance to see you again.”

That still didn’t mean she’d be able to see her mother (or her son, for that matter), since they lived in Osaka, under Tomoe’s protection. But her grandfather lived in London, and she was grateful beyond measure that she was now allowed to see him from time to time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
She’d been in London, to spend Christmas with the old man, when the Sycorax had invaded Earth. She’d never quite figured out what had _really_ happened; only that Torchwood One had shot their spaceship off the sky. She’d only learned much later that Prime Minister Harriet Jones, who had ordered the defensive action, would have a rather unfriendly argument with someone called ‘the Doctor’ right afterwards – and that the rumours about her ill health that soon led to a vote of no confidence and to the end of her career, had started on that very day.

Tosh had been shaken by this news, gathered through Rajesh who’d heard it from someone who’d heard it from the PA of Harriet Jones herself. During their travels, the Doctor had always spoken in the highest tones of Harriet Jones. She was destined to be re-elected as Prime Minister for three successive terms, he had said, and to become the architect of a period known as Britain’s Golden Age.

And the Doctor would destroy _this_ woman, and with her the future of the UK, because of a difference of opinions? By her best efforts, Tosh could not imagine the Doctor she’d come to love and respect like in a father in those two years she had spent travelling with him to be so petty. So cruel. So vengeful.

The description she’d been given certainly didn’t match the man – the _Time Lord_ – she remembered. She couldn’t have forgotten his looks in a mere six months could she? On the other hand, Torchwood files (gained from UNIT) stated that the Doctor was capable of regenerating after a fatal injury and that his new body usually was very different from the previous one.

Perhaps his personality would change in the process, too – but so profoundly? It was hard to believe that the same Doctor who’d almost shed tears over that poor ‘space pig’ would casually destroy the future of an entire nation, just because _one_ person had dared to cross him. Something must have gone terribly wrong with him. Perhaps the same effect that had turned Jack into an immortal freak had damaged the Doctor, too. The Doctor _she_ had known would never have acted like that.

Ever since Christmas, Tosh had hesitated whether she should tell Jack about her suspicions. Poor Jack had set such high hopes in the Doctor; until Christmas, Tosh could understand why. But if they were indeed dealing with a new and very different Doctor, then perhaps Jack would do better if he didn’t put his hopes too high. This new persona didn’t seem to be that big on compassion.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In the early spring of 2007 Tosh still could not quite decide what to do with her disturbing piece of information. The aftermath was certainly being worrisome. Defence Minister Harold Saxon, doing his best to ruin what was still left of Harriet Jones’ reputation, was leading the polls by sixty-seven per cent, and with only two months left of the election countdown.

Only two months after the so-called ‘ghosts’ had started appearing all over the planet, causing collective madness that was swinging back and forth between euphoria and mass hysteria all the time.

Despite her traditional Japanese upbringing, Tosh did not believe in ghosts. She believed in science and that behind every mysterious phenomenon there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. One only had to find it.

Fortunately, Jack happened to share her views in that area.

“If we eliminate the fantasy factor, there can only be one logical answer,” he’d said. “Transdimensional travel.”

“But is that possible at all?” Tosh remembered herself asking. “Travelling between parallel dimensions, I mean?”

“It shouldn’t be possible… in theory,” Jack had answered. “Unless something had torn a hole between realities.”

“Like the Rift?” Suzie had asked.

“No,” Jack had replied. “A hundred times worse than the Rift. The Rift is a tear in space and time, but still in our own dimension.”

“Still bad enough, if you ask me,” Owen had muttered.

Jack had nodded in agreement. “You’re right, it is. Now imagine the same barrier broken down between alternate realities, allowing them to leak into each other…”

“I’d rather _not_ , if you don’t mind,” Owen had said with a frown. Then a thought had occurred to him. “Do you think Headquarters has something to do with this whole mess?”

Jack had nodded. “They must have. I mean, they’d built Torchwood Tower for the express reason to reach that anomaly that had opened right over Canary Wharf some time ago. Until now, we always assumed that it’s the same spatio-temporal sort as our own Rift. But what if it isn’t? What if _their_ rift is something different; something much worse than ours?”

Tosh could still feel the cold fear that had filled her by _that_ thought. “An _interdimensional_ rift?”

“What else?” Jack had said grimly. “It has to be. That would explain a great lot of things. But we need to know it for sure. I hate to do this to you, Tosh, but you’ll have to go to London and try to learn something about it. You’re the only one who can do so without raising suspicions. You can hand Yvonne the reports for the first trimester at the same time.”

Tosh didn’t like the idea any more than Jack did, but she knew Jack had been right. She was the only semi-regular visitor at Headquarters; plus it was a known fact that she and Rajesh had a thing running. No-one would question her presence at Torchwood Tower.

So there she was now, sitting on the train, laptop on her knees, working on her private little database of alien languages and trying to ignore the really bad feeling knotted tightly in her stomach. She wished there would be a way to avoid going to Headquarters – but she knew there was none.

At least she’d get to see Rajesh again. They hadn’t met since Christmas, and even then, their time had been cut short, due to the Sycorax invasion. Tosh shook her head ruefully. Only her life could be weird enough to become sex-deprived because of a bloody _alien invasion_! Sometimes it really sounded like trashy sci-fi from the 1950s. Would she see this on the telly, she would never believe it, that much was certain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
As it was their wont, Rajesh picked her up from the railway station, after her train had arrived. He seemed tired; more tired than usual, that is, and for the first time since they’d known each other, he actually showed his age. Not that a man of thirty-seven would count as particularly old, of course, but as a rule, Rajesh _did_ look considerably younger than his actual age, mostly due to his lively, animate face and near inexhaustible energy. Right now, said face was almost grey with exhaustion, and deep, fine lines had been etched around his mouth, in the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. Lines Tosh did not remember from earlier.

“Bad day at work?” she inquired, after they had kissed each other, taking their time and any possible audience be damned. They did not have all that many chances to snog, after all.

Rajesh shrugged. “That depends on your definition. But yeah, staring at an unsolvable riddle for weeks upon weeks, without getting any closer to the solution, is something that _does_ count as an entire row of bad days in my books.”

“And in mine,” Tosh was very careful _not_ to ask him about that mysterious projects, although she knew Jack was dying to learn more about it. What she didn’t know could not get her into a conflict of loyalties. Besides, what could Rajesh’s project have to do with the ‘ghost' appearances? He was a xenobiologist, first and foremost; the only one working for Headquarters.

To Rajesh’s credit, he was equally careful _not_ to learn anything important about what was going on in Cardiff – not that any great, dark secrets would have been hidden there. Not to Tosh’s knowledge in any case. So she usually entertained Rajesh with stories about Weevils and other bizarre aliens spat out by the Rift, knowing that Headquarters was mostly interested in the tech, not in the aliens themselves, and Rajesh treated him with amusing trivia concerning the physiology of the Dogon race, on the understanding of which he’d previously worked, since that wasn’t a particularly confidential matter. Not between two Torchwood branches, that is.

This time, however, Rajesh was too frustrated to do their usual egg-dance around anything potentially important.

“I don’t know how long I can keep on doing this,” he complained, steering Tosh towards his car. 

He drove a black Aston Martin convertible with dark purple seats – and usually with the top open, as this way any listening devices would have a much harder time to filter their conversation out of the background noise. Rajesh was a loyal Torchwood One employee who respected Yvonne Hartman a great deal, but that didn’t mean that he would actually _trust_ her. 

Sure they’d known each other since college; they had even had a torrid affair once – until Yvonne had found a wealthier, more influential man to socialize with – but that only meant that Rajesh knew her very well. Better, perhaps, than anyone else at Torchwood One.

He stopped on the open street before they’d get close enough to his car for the hypothetical listening device to pick up his voice. His dark eyes were clouded with worry under his thick brows. Tosh had never seen him like this before.

“Listen,” he said in a low voice, almost whispering, “I know Yvonne would have my head on a plate for this, but I think you need to know… no, _Harkness_ needs to know. I’ll take you out for dinner tonight, to a place where we can speak freely, and there I’ll tell you what little I know. You decide what you tell your boss of it.”

Unexpectedly, he caught her around the waist and kissed her soundly. But there was no heat in his kiss; it clearly served to fool any people from Headquarters who might watch them for Yvonne.

“All right,” Tosh replied with a falsely broad smile, “You’ve got yourself a date. “Work first, though. I’ve got tons of reports to deliver.”

“Let’s go then,” Rajesh agreed, taking her hand, and the two of them ran to his car, holding hands like besotted teenagers.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
They drove to East London, to the former West India Docks, where Canary Wharf – one of London’s two main financial centres, alongside the good old City of London – was located. Tosh had to admit that it was an impressive sight. One Canada Square (for those in the know, and such people were fairly limited in the numbers, Torchwood Tower) was currently the highest building of the UK – not really surprising, considering that it had been built for the specific purpose to reach the spatial rift 660 feet above sea level.

No, no _spatial_ rift, she corrected herself. _Interdimensional_ rift. A potentially lethal gateway between alternate realities, which Headquarters, in their self-confident stupidity, probably chose to poke a little. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the ‘ghosts’ had started appearing just about the same time as Torchwood Tower had been finished.

Still, the fifty-storey skyscraper looked impressive, standing between its two slightly lower siblings; she had to admit _that_. Every time she visited Headquarters, she envied the people for their surroundings and for the comfort of their workplace – if not for their boss.

It wasn’t so as Yvonne would ever have been unfriendly to her. She liked to call herself a _people person_ , and she actually was one. Most of her co-workers liked her well enough, and she was on first name basis with just about everyone. Only the armed guards would still call her _ma’am_. But there was a ruthless ambition in her that made Tosh’s skin crawl; even though it was ‘for Queen and country’, not for herself. Her patriotism went as far as refusing the use of the metric system, which, in Tosh’s opinion, was plain stupid – not that she’d voice that opinion. She didn’t have a death wish.

Rajesh drove the car into the underground garage reserved for the staff, and they rode the elevator to the office level. After the first three levels – still underground every single one of them – a young man, wearing an impeccable three-piece suit and a dark red tie to his crisp dress shirt, joined them in the cabin.

“Doctor Singh,” he said by way of greeting; he had a pleasant, low-pitched voice and an unmistakable Welsh accent. “Ma’am.”

Rajesh nodded absent-mindedly. “Ianto. Any news from the R&D people? They’re supposed to come up with that new spectrometer today.”

“They’re fairly confident about it,” the young man, whose name was apparently Ianto, answered him. “Said they could detect the heat off a single protozoa through half a mile of steel.” His dry tone revealed that he was more than sceptical about _that_.

“They’re full of themselves, as always,” Rajesh said with a grimace.

The young man raised an inquiring eyebrow. “You think they’ll fail to find anything, sir?”

“I almost wish they’d succeed, even if that would make them even more arrogant,” Rajesh admitted glumly.

“ _Almost_ , sir?” the young man repeated with the same inquisitive eyebrow.

Rajesh glared at him over the rim of his glasses. “Well, do you _want_ them to become even more full of themselves?”

“I don’t believe _that_ would be physically possible, sir,” the young man replied with a tiny, ironic smile. “Besides, we both know that they’re idiots; that’s enough for me.”

The elevator stopped on the level labelled _Virtual Archives_ , and the young man nodded to them politely.

“That would be where I get off,” he said. “Good luck, Doctor Singh… ma’am,” and with that, he stepped out of the elevator cabin, which continued its way skyward.

“Who was that?” Tosh asked, vaguely inspired, although she didn’t know exactly _why_.

Rajesh frowned. “Ianto? He’s one of the junior researchers; one of Rupert Howarth’s personal assistants, in fact.”

“Howarth?” the name sounded familiar, although Tosh couldn’t quite remember from where. She was sure she’d seen it on various official documents, though.

“Our Head Archivist,” Rajesh added helpfully. “The second most important person after Yvonne… or so Yvonne thinks. In truth, Rupert knows a great deal more about what’s going on in here than Yvonne herself; and so do his assistants. The only difference is that his assistants know a specific field of research each, while Rupert has the whole picture. He has to; without the archivists, we’d drown in chaos in no time.”

“Well, that certainly explains the state of things in Cardiff,” Tosh muttered darkly. “The Archives haven’t been cleaned out since Jack took over in 2000. I’ve tried to bring some order into the chaos but failed miserably. I don’t know how Howarth manages; Headquarters has the documents of _all_ Torchwood branches, aside from your own ones.”

“I believe the fact that he employs assistants with photographic memories and a definite hang to be anal retentive must have something to do with his success,” Rajesh grinned. “He finds them in the most unlikely places, too.”

“Like what?” Tosh asked in morbid fascination, the wildest ideas starting to take shape in her head. An overactive imagination could be as much a curse as it was a blessing.

Rajesh shrugged. “As far as I know, he picked up Ianto in a coffee shop.”

“In a _coffee shop_?” Tosh repeated, not quite trusting her ears.

“Yeah. The lad was jobbing there three days a week to finance his studies… something with economics and computer science and all that stuff. I’m a tea person myself, but Rupert swears the boy makes the best cup of coffee on this planet.”

“He seems rather… old-fashioned for such a young chap,” Tosh commented as they left the elevator cabin and turned in to the corridor leading to the operations centre of Headquarters, where half a dozen young people were sitting at their computers (all enhanced by alien tech), doing research or typing up reports - or playing solitaire when nobody was watching them.

“What do you mean?” Rajesh asked with a frown. “It isn’t so as if Torchwood would encourage casual Fridays, you know.”

Indeed, he was wearing a dark suit, too, with a pinstriped purple shirt and a matching deep purple tie. In fact, _all_ Torchwood One personnel were wearing suits, although most of them had white lab coats instead of their suit jackets. As for the women, they were spotlessly elegant, too. As if they’d be working for a bank, not for a semi-secret private organization salvaging alien tech and fighting alien invasions.

“I mean the three-piece thing,” Tosh explained. “ _And_ his mannerism – like a butler from a Dickens novel.”

Rajesh laughed. “Oh, that isn’t a personal choice, either for him or for the other assistant archivists,” he said. “It’s one of Rupert’s idiosyncrasies, actually. He demands the most formal clothing and behaviour from all of his assistants, all the time. And to call him _sir_. He likes to state that archivists are supposed to be gentlemen, so they ought to _look_ like gentlemen, too. He even expects from them to help him into his coat when he leaves.”

“From the women, too?” Tosh wondered, not sure she’d be willing to do something like that for anyone, save her own grandfather.

“The Archives are like an old-fashioned club for gentlemen,” Rajesh explained, opening the door for her. “Rupert doesn’t accept any female assistants.”

“A habit I intend to break him out of sooner or later,” Yvonne Hartman, the director of Torchwood One, swept forth from her private office to shake Tosh’s hand with exaggerated friendliness. It was part of her persona, just like the elegant little black dress and the perfect hairdo. “Toshiko! How nice to see you again! What’s news in Cardiff?”

“Weevils, space junk, more Weevils, a spirited black market dealing with Dogon eyes, Weevils, the occasional Hoix, more Weevils, lost alien tourists and even more Weevils,” Tosh summarized, handing her the thick manila folder with all the reports. “It’s all in there.”

“No unusual Rift activity?” Yvonne asked, leafing through the reports absent-mindedly. Truth be told, she had precious little interest in Weevils, which seemed to be the major aspect of life and work at Torchwood Three.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Tosh replied, according to the truth. “There seems to be no connection between Rift cycles and the appearance of those so-called ghosts.”

Yvonne picked up her sarcastic tone at once. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

“No,” Tosh said. “Not all Japanese people believe in the supernatural. I’m a scientist; I work with facts. But let’s just suppose, for the argument’s sake, that these apparitions _are_ ghosts – wouldn’t we be in serious trouble then?”

“Why would we?” Yvonne asked with a shrug. She was clearly fascinated by the ‘ghosts’, just like most other people. Of course, she was an administrator, not a scientist.

“By its very definition, the supernatural exists in another dimension,” Tosh pointed out. “Again, assuming that _anything_ would be able to travel from one dimension to another, it would mean that the walls between dimensions are crumbling down… and _that_ would be a very bad thing.”

“It would be chaos,” Rajesh added in concern. “I’m not an astrophysicist, but the mere thought makes me itch.”

“You worry too much, Rajesh,” Yvonne waved off his concern. “Go back to your lab; R&D ought to be here any minute now. Toshiko, do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Nothing, save from a visit by my grandfather,” Tosh said in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, you’re said to be good at sonic technology,” Yvonne replied, signalling – and not too subtly – that although Tosh’s record _had_ been wiped clear, she knew about her brief, not-quite-voluntary foray into that area. “One of our junior researchers has slight problems with a piece of alien tech; perhaps you can give her a hand while you’re here?”

“I can give it a try,” Tosh wasn’t trilled by the fact that Yvonne clearly knew about her past, but considering her contacts to UNIT and her deep-rooted mistrust towards Jack, it probably wasn’t all that surprising. On the other hand, getting up and close to _any_ project Headquarters was working on was too good to let the chance slip through her fingers.

“Excellent!” Yvonne beamed at her. “I always knew your talents were wasted in that fetid hole Harkness calls his base.”

“We do important work!” Tosh protested, a little defensively. “We’re _needed_ there, and doing research on the Rift is quite the challenge.”

“I’m sure it is, and I trust you to finish that Rift activity pre-warning system of yours eventually, “Yvonne said. “However, you should consider your choices, once your contract with the Cardiff branch runs out. We can offer you so much more here; and you’d be closer to your family in London, too.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Tosh replied diplomatically.

Not that she’d truly want to work for Torchwood One – her ideal workplace would have been some scientific lab, as far from aliens as humanly possible. She’d seen her fair share of _those_ while travelling with the Doctor. But as long as she _was_ a Torchwood employee, it would have been unwise to make the director of Headquarters mad at her. If the rumour mill could be trusted, Yvonne did not take flat-out rejections kindly. 

Besides, she still had a year and a half to work for Jack yet, so it was a moot point anyway.

“I hope you will,” Yvonne said, clearly certain that no lowly little Torchwood Three employee would even _think_ of refusing the offer to work for Headquarters. “Adeola will take you to Engineering Lab #4 where you can examine the artefact.”

“I’ll fetch you when my shift ends,” Rajesh promised, already on his way to the elevator.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Adeola Oshodi turned out to be one of the junior researchers sitting in the operation centre: a very pretty girl, dark-skinned and dark-haired, with large, almond-shaped, coffee brown eyes and a friendly grin. Tosh liked her at first sight and wondered how someone like her would end up at Torchwood Tower, of all places.

“Torchwood hired us right out of university,” Adeola explained readily upon entering the elevator cabin. “Me, Gareth – that’s my boyfriend – Matt… the whole bunch of us. Seventy per cent of the scientific and technical personnel are grad students, working on our degrees.”

“What would be yours?” Tosh asked. Adeola grinned proudly.

“Bachelor’s degree in digital data storaging and computer imaging systems,” she replied. “Proper data compression is the key to the future, don’t you think?”

“Definitely, Tosh agreed.

“Don’t let any of the archivists hear you, though,” Adeola added in a conspiratory manner. “They all have a paper fetish, I swear! Apparently, Mr Howarth makes them order all physical data files in boxes, and label them all _by hand_!”

“How… medieval of him,” Tosh found the young woman’s prejudices highly amusing. Granted, she, too, preferred digital data storaging, but one could not deny that having hard copies for safety reasons was a good thing, too.

They got off the elevator cabin at Level 27, which was marked as Engineering. It was a nondescript corridor with identical doors on both sides, numbered, but without any further markings. Adeola went straight to the door with a large black 4 on eye level and inserted her key card into the slot in the right side. There was a soft _click_ , then a green light went on above the door, and the slide doors opened noiselessly.

Within, there was the best-equipped lab Tosh had seen in her entire life; and she _had_ seen her fair share of modern equipment. Enhanced with alien technology, too, most likely. Another pretty, dark-skinned young woman in a white lab coat, this one with short-cropped hair, was working on one of the long, low tables. She had the parts of a dismantled instrument in front of her and was clearly trying to separate the power source from the encasing. A whole, working version of the alien gizmo was standing on the only free corner of the table.

“Hi Lisa,” Adeola said, “I brought help. This is Doctor Sato from Torchwood Cardiff. Yvonne says she’s good at sonic tech. Doctor Sato, this is Lisa Hallett. She’s working on her Master’s degrees in electronical and mechanical engineering.”

“For starters,” Lisa added with a broad grin. “I want to specialize in cybernetics later. Unless I get fired for not being able to figure out what makes this thing tick and what it might be good for.”

“Well we can’t have _that_ , can we?” Tosh smiled; the girls were really nice and funny, it was hard to believe that they’d be the work bees of Headquarters. “Let me take a look. I can’t promise anything, but who knows, we might get lucky.”

Lisa made a generous, sweeping gesture towards that gutted… _thing_ and its still working counterpart. “Be my guest, Doctor Sato.”

“Toshiko,” Tosh corrected; then she turned her attention to the task at hand, examining the working instrument first.

It was a fairly strange piece of junk, even as alien gizmos go. It looked like two purple umbrellas joined by the ends of their handles and four silver globes floating seemingly in thin air at its middle. As she approached, the globes began to spin around the central column, exchanging sparks of silver-blue energy with it.

“Hmmm…” she muttered. “It seems to be some sort of generator.”

“That was my first assumption, too,” Lisa agreed, “but so far I was unable to figure out where the generated energy actually goes.”

“Is it perhaps being stored in the globes,” Tosh asked.

Lisa shook her head. “No; at least the instruments can’t detect any energy in those… although the thing itself generates a good amount of it. As if the only purpose would be to spin the globes around the central column.”

“The thing looks like those little perpetuum mobile thingies,” Adeola commented. “My cousin Martha and I used to love them very much when we were children – we could sit and watch them spin for hours.”

“I doubt that _your_ perpetuum mobiles generated sonic energy,” Tosh returned dryly.

“Is that what it is?” Lisa asked. “Is it truly sonic energy?”

“Oh, yeah, there can be no doubt about that,” Tosh said, biting her lower lip in concentration. “So, you took apart the other one to separate the energy source from the moving part, right?”

“I’ve tried,” Lisa admitted, “but so far, I’m not even sure that it _is_ the power source. These parts make no sense at all.”

“Nonsense,” Tosh said. “They make perfect sense – if we find the right angle to look at them. Now, let me scan the dismantled part and see whether we have something similar in our technical database.”

She took out her laptop – also enhanced with alien technology – and started to run a scan on the parts, while Lisa and Adeola were staring at her in open-mouthed awe.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Two hours later, when Rajesh came to pick Tosh up, they still weren’t any closer to figuring out the mysterious artefact than before. Tosh briefly wondered whether the Doctor would be able to tell them what it was and where it had come, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Torchwood had always had an unhealthy interest in the Doctor, and she didn’t want to end up in an interrogation cell as Jack once had.

Rajesh took her out for dinner to the _Babur_ – a stylish Indian restaurant in south-east London, which happened to belong to one of his numerous cousins. Situated next to a carpet shop (apparently owned by another one of their cousins), the place had a great atmosphere. The reception had a kota blue limestone floor, decorated with a stunning _kalamkari_ hanging by the renowned artist Ajit Kumar Das and separated from the brick-lined dining room by floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The exposed brick was adorned with two suede and leather triptychs by Sian Lester, inspired by the forms and colours of our _kalamkari_. Louis Poulson light pendants and veneered timber completed the picture of a place that combined tradition with modern – and partially Western – fashion tastefully.

“Well, we belong to the West as much as we belong to our Indian roots,” Rajesh answered with a shrug when Tosh commented on the merge of different tastes. “My uncle, who opened the _Babur_ in 1985, was already born in England.”

“It seems to be a popular place,” Tosh said, eyeing the crowd waiting at the reception for a free table. “Have you reserved in advance?”

“No, but it helps to be family,” Rajesh grinned and winked at a tall, devastatingly handsome man about his own age. “Hey, Sendhil, is the family table available?”

The bronze god statue come alive gave them a wide, blinding white smile. “You’re lucky,” he replied. “My in-laws have just left. The table will be refreshed in a moment,” he gave Tosh an appreciating look. “So, this is the famous Miss Sato?”

“ _Doctor_ Sato,” Rajesh corrected. “But since you’re family, she might allow you to call her simply Toshiko.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” Sendhil Kumar Jhanji, who happened to be the current manager of the _Babur_ , smiled and kissed her hand gallantly. “You’re a lucky dog, Raji,” then, apparently reacting to a sign from one of the waiters, he added. “And your table is ready. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Oh, I will,” Tosh replied with feeling. “The only thing I had in the last thirty-six hours was some Chinese take-away last night and several gallons of coffee today. I’m starved!”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” the restaurant manager said. “If you don’t know what to choose, Raji will be able to help you with the menu.”

He put together his hands in Hindu fashion and bowed elegantly; then he went back to the reception to chat with the waiting customers. A waiter came and led them to a small, separate chamber, where the noise level from the main dining room – including the music – was considerably dampened, and handed them the menu.

“Are you familiar with Indian cuisine?” Rajesh asked; they’d had the occasional dinner before, but not in such places.

Tosh shook her head. “No, unless take-away counts. I’m not that big on spices, myself; it’s usually Suzie’s preference. Her mother’s family hails from Kerala, I think.”

“Do you want a drink first?” Rajesh studied the cocktail menu with the air of a man who knew what he wanted. Tosh hesitated.

“Would it be wise, on an empty stomach?”

“They have non-alcoholic cocktails as well,” Rajesh handed her the card. “But if you accept a suggestion from me, I’d have _Darjeeling Mist_ if I were you. I’ve tried that one quite often; if you like tea, you’ll like it, too.”

 _Darjeeling Mist_ promised to be iced tea with gin, lime juice, mint and cassia bark. It sounded refreshing, and after the long train ride and half a day spent at Headquarters Tosh felt in definite need for something else than just coffee.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll give it a try.”

“I’ll have the same,” Rajesh told the waiter, “and the beetroot and potato cutlet for starters.”

Tosh chose vegetable _Beggar’s Purse_ , which turned out to be little pastry sacks, filled with potato peas and cashew, seasoned with chat masala. It matched her cocktail surprisingly well.

For mains, she had garlic prawns on masala uttapam from the tandoor (probably not the most fitting choice for a romantic evening, but she felt like having some), with rice flour griddle cake and a side dish of baby aubergine with peanut sauce and steamed rice. Rajesh chose a Keralan dish: a large, crispy pancake filled with spicy mixed vegetables, green beans with sweet coconut and spices and lemon rice with cashews.

“I never knew you were a vegetarian,” Tosh commented, peeling her prawns and scoping up some peanut sauce with the tasty morsel.

“Not religiously,” Rajesh answered with a shrug. “I just don’t like meat that much. Especially red meat. What about you?”

“The same,” Tosh admitted. “I can eat it when there’s nothing else, but I prefer vegetables and seafood if I have the choice. Mmmm…. This is excellent. Your cousin has a fantastic cook.”

“Actually, my uncle is the chef,” Rajesh revealed, finishing his pancake. “He lets Sendhil run the place, so that he can focus all his energy on the cooking. It shows, doesn’t it? What about desserts? Or are you too full for that?”

“Not really, as long as they aren’t too sweet or too heavy,” Tosh consulted the dessert menu. “I’ll have the spiced apple papdi and green apple puree. It sounds fruity and light.”

“It’s excellent, especially served with a glass of Terre Rosse Malvasia,” Rajesh assured her; then he looked at the waiter. “I’ll have the spiced chocolate fondant, with orange murabba and a glass of Orange Muscat Essencia, please.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Finishing their desserts, they finally relaxed after the meal by a dessert cocktail called _Mocha martini_ , which turned out to consist a generous shot of espresso, dark chocolate and coffee liqueurs and Reyka vodka.

“So, what’s wrong?” Tosh asked, sipping on her cocktail; it was sinfully sweet, almost intoxicating, even after a full dinner. “I’ve never seen you so nervous.”

Rajesh took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes; also that old scar from a car accident above his left eye, as if it would torture him with phantom pain.

“It’s this artefact, you see,” he replied in such a low voice that Tosh barely understood. “It simply appeared, just when the rift opened… a huge sphere, about six feet in diameter, looking as if made of polished bronze. It’s… it’s just _there_ , hanging in mid-air in the lab, without support, doing… doing _nothing_. According to our instruments, it doesn’t even exist. It weighs nothing. It doesn’t age. No heat. No radiation. It has no atomic mass, for God’s sake!”

“That’s impossible!” Tosh said.

Rajesh gave her a near-hysterical look. “I know that, all right? I’m a bloody scientist, too! But that’s what the machines keep saying – that the sphere cannot exist. And yet it’s there.”

“That new spectrometer R&D came up with,” Tosh said. “Did it find anything?”

“Nothing,” Rajesh answered with a nervous little laugh. “It gave them _nothing_. Same as ever. It’s just… it gets into your head, this thing, you know. Like it’s… like it’s staring at you.”

“Could it be some kind of artificial intelligence?” Tosh asked.

“I don’t know,” Rajesh sighed. “We thought someone – or something – must be within, since this is how it all started.”

“That’s how _what_ started?” Tosh demanded.

“The apparitions,” Rajesh explained. “The sphere came through the rift, and the ghosts, whatever they are, followed in its sake.”

“And no-one did find _that_ disturbing?” Tosh asked with a frown. “Are you guys at Headquarters so arrogant that you believe you can deal with everything?”

“With _almost_ everything, I’d say,” Rajesh said with a shrug. “That Sycorax warship was not the only thing we’ve shot off the sky in the recent years.”

“Shooting at spaceships is easy,” Tosh said calmly. “All it requires is a suitable weapon and good hand-eye coordination. It’s a piece of a pie for anyone who’s ever played online war games. Dealing with the totally unknown, though… now, _that_ ’s tough.”

“Voice of experience speaking?” Rajesh asked with a grin. Tosh nodded.

“You guys here, in your comfy, high-tech labs, have no idea. Torchwood Three has been monitoring the Rift since the nineteenth century, and we never know what might come through. The Weevils are only the tip of the iceberg. Small wonder that few of us live beyond thirty; I’m one of the very few exceptions.”

“So you think this must be something sinister?” Rajesh asked hesitating.

Tosh shrugged. “Honestly? I can’t believe that these so-called ghosts, whatever they might be, are harmless. Harmless visitors – and yes, we do run into those sometimes – arrive openly and state their intentions.”

“But what _can_ they be?” Rajesh pondered. “They don’t have any substance; just like the sphere. One can simply walk through them and feel nothing.”

“I have no idea,” Tosh admitted. “If they’ve come with that sphere of yours, though, they cannot be up to anything good,” she paused, thinking. “I do have an enhanced scanner with me that might be able to gather some data from it… _if_ you can get me near enough.”

“You can’t be serious!” Rajesh became ash grey with shock. “Yvonne would have my head on a plate if I allowed _anyone_ not assigned to the project into the lab. Not even our junior researchers are granted access, save Samuel, my assistant.”

Tosh shrugged again. “It’s your choice, of course. There’s a strong chance that the results won’t be worth the risk, but…” she shrugged a third time, “as they say: noting dared, nothing gained.”

Rajesh thought about the pros and contras for quite some time; then a determined expression appeared on his face.

“Well, if we want to do that, we’ll have to be there early,” he said, “and I _mean_ early. Would you like another dessert cocktail?”

Tosh shook her head. “No, I’m well and truly stuffed. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Sendhil Jhanji came personally with the bill, which turned out fairly reasonable for a complete diner in such a classy place: about 50 pounds a head. Rajesh insisted on paying for them both, and after some protests Tosh let him, hoping that Sendhil had taxed him with a family bonus or two. Walking out of the restaurant, Rajesh glanced in the direction of his car, parked in the secured customer parking area of the _Babur_ , a bit ruefully.

“I think I’ll better call us a taxi,” he said. “We both had quite a bit of alcohol; it would be unwise to drive in this condition. Or,” he added, hesitating, “you could come home with me. I live in the neighbourhood; it’s a ten-minute-walk only. We can fetch the car in the morning and return to the Institute together.”

Tosh, too, hesitated for a moment. Until now, they usually spent their nights together in her hotel room. It was less... personal that way; it enabled her to keep her emotional distance easier. She didn’t want to become emotionally involved again; for someone working for Torchwood, especially for the Cardiff branch, it could only end in heartbreak.

On the other hand, if she was honest to herself, Rajesh had become more for her than just a casual shag for quite some time; even if she didn’t really want to admit it. The man was cultured, polite, intelligent and generally pleasant, with refined tastes, and she liked him. She liked him a lot. More, probably, than it was good for the members of two concurring branches, but that could not be helped. 

So perhaps it was time to stop going to anonymous hotel rooms for a night or two. Perhaps she ought to give this thing between them some more serious thought, to see what it could eventually become. Besides, she was curious to see how he lived.

“All right,” she said, “let’s go to your place. But if I’m supposed to walk in _these_ ,” she glanced down at her high heels, “then _you’re_ carrying my overnight bag.”

“It’s a deal,” Rajesh laughed and jogged to his car to fetch her carry-all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The place where Rajesh lived – or, as he’d correct with a wry grin, where he _sometimes_ returned to sleep – was nothing like what Tosh would have expected. She’d expect him to have a penthouse, like Owen: on the top of a high building, with at least two walls made of glass; everything very modern, streamlined – and very bleak, missing any female touch. He was a bachelor, after all, and of an age when a man would get quite settled in his routine.

Instead, they came into a fairly small flat, consisting only of an airy living room – empty, save from the floor-to-ceiling, open bookshelves and a desk in front of the French window that opened to a balcony so small that there was barely room for two people to stand at the same time. The alcove on the other end of the room was separated by a free-standing bookshelf, thus creating just enough space for a wardrobe, a nightstand and a king-sized mattress of the floor, which clearly served as the bed, if the pale lilac sheets were any indication.

A small kitchenette and a bathroom opened from the other side of the front door – and that was, basically, it. A tiny flat that one would expect from a student, not from a top researcher of Torchwood One, with two doctorates under his belt, who could afford to drive an Aston Martin convertible. Apparently, Rajesh’s priorities did not tend towards the domestic area.

Seeing her surprise he shrugged and grinned.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s all mine,” he said, “and it’s all I need. Considering how little time I actually spend here; and when I do, I’m usually asleep.”

“That’s Torchwood for you,” Tosh commented; it sounded almost depressingly familiar indeed.

She looked around, unconsciously noticing the lack of knick-knacks or, indeed, of any decoration. This was a very utilitarian home; of one could call it a _home_ at all. A neat, well-ordered, practical place to sleep or to study; or to work outside the lab. Nothing else, not even a telly. Just like her own place.

The only personal items were the framed photographs of two children on the nightstand: a girl of perhaps ten or twelve years, and a boy, certainly not older than four or five. Both had had a distinct likeness to Rajesh and the same dark eyes.

“Nephew and niece?” Tosh asked lightly, suppressing the pain of missing her little Yoshi ruthlessly.

“No, they’re my own children, actually,” Rajesh answered. “The girl’s Shanti, the boy’s name is Rajeev.”

“I’d never have thought you to be a family man,” Tosh said in surprise.

Rajesh sighed. “There was a time when I tried to reconcile my work with some kind of private life – until Torchwood came along. After that, it simply didn’t work out any longer. My… almost-wife got enough of the ungodly working hours and the secrecy and left me and the children. My sister Soraya raises them for me – at least I get to see them regularly,” he shrugged. “There are worse arrangements. What about you? Do you have any children?”

“A little son,” Tosh whispered. “Yoshi. I left him with my mother. Torchwood Cardiff is no place to raise a child. There used to be a dozen or so people doing the work we’re doing now, and there’s only the four of us. I don’t want to neglect my child… or let him come to harm, just because I work for Torchwood.”

“But doesn’t your mother live in Osaka?” Rajesh asked in surprise. Tosh nodded, and he furrowed his brow. “You don’t get to see the boy often, do you?”

“I haven’t seen him since his first birthday,” Tosh admitted, fighting her tears. “It’s hard, I won’t deny that. But he’s safer in Japan, with my mother, as far from Torchwood as possible.”

“There’s that,” Rajesh agreed ruefully. Then he lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed. I’ll do my best to make you forget your worries for a while.”

Tosh sighed and kissed him briefly. “I don’t want to misuse you as stress relief, Raji,” she said, adopting the nickname she’d heard his cousin using.

He smiled at her, his eyes dark and warm like melting chocolate under those impossibly long and thick black eyelashes every woman would kill to own. _It shouldn’t be allowed for a man to have eyes like that_ , the silly thought occurred to her. It simply wasn’t fair. She didn’t have a rat’s chance when he smiled at her like that.

“Don’t spoil the mood,” he said. “We never promised each other anything; with us both working for Torchwood, it just wouldn’t be possible. Let’s make love tonight; we cannot know what tomorrow will bring. And I’d hate to waste any moment I can spend with you.”

It sounded far from detached enough for Tosh’s comfort, but she knew he was right. If you worked for Torchwood, all you had was the present. Even at Headquarters, with its eight hundred-and-some employees, it was the senior researchers who got the riskiest assignments, because they were the ones who had the necessary knowledge. At Torchwood Three, every day could be your last day. So yes, you were supposed to enjoy and fully appreciate such stolen moments of joy, before everything would go to Hell, as usual. 

Especially considering the illegal action they were planning for the next morning.

And so Toshiko went to bed with Rajesh, who did his best to make her forget her concerns – and his best was very good indeed. They had known each other long enough to know what would give the other pleasure, and there were barely two hours left till sunrise when they finally fell asleep, sated, exhausted and content to be together. 

Even if it was only for this night, as Tosh intended to return to Cardiff on the next evening.


	3. Falling Towards Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is practically a retelling of the episodes “Army of Ghosts” and “Doomsday”, from Toshiko’s POV, assuming that she experienced some of the events from the sidelines. Slightly AU, so certain events will be a tad different. Some lines of dialogue are borrowed from the actual episodes, though.  
> The chroniton particles aren’t originally part of the whoniverse, of course. They’ve been borrowed form Star Trek, as “Vortex energy” didn’t sound geeky enough for me. I know, it's sometimes called _arton energy_ , but I don't particularly like that, either.  
> My heartfelt thanks to aeshna_cyanea for delivering a few good arguments concerning Yvonne Hartman’s motivations, some of which are loosely quoted in this chapter.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***   
**CHAPTER TWO – FALLING TOWARDS APOCALYPSE**

They woke up in the next morning after less than four hours of sleep and used up all the hot water in the shower to cure the stiffness of their limbs somehow. Then they had cereals and fruit juice for breakfast – Rajesh clearly not being a fan of dairy products, unless in the form of chocolate – and walked back to the _Babur_ to get his car. Today promised to be clear and sunny, but Rajesh, who was not a morning person (something Tosh had realized quite some time ago) looked at his beloved vehicle bleary-eyed and grouchy.

“God, I hate to drive first thing in the morning!” he groaned. “I don’t suppose you’d like to…?”

“Are you offering to let me drive your car?” Tosh asked, astonished, because she’d never known a man who’d do that. “Your equivalent of a holy cow? Are you _really_ sure about it?”

“Better you than me, with the killer headache I’m having right now,” he replied. “Aspirin won’t kick in for another half an hour, so… just be careful, okay?”

“I’m _always_ careful,” Tosh returned, accepting his keys. “At least when it comes to driving. You’d be extremely careful, too, would you be subjected to Jack’s driving style as often as I am. Russian roulette doesn’t even come close to sitting in the same car with him.”

They got into the car and Tosh started the engine, secretly enjoying its smooth running. Unlike most women, she could appreciate a really classy car – from the purely technical point of view, of course. Although the design wasn’t half bad, either, she admitted. Purple seemed to be Rajesh’s favourite colour, and it went well with the back and the chrome. The car was a delight.

With the help of the navigation system, Tosh found her way into the underground garage of Headquarters easily enough. She parked the car in the slot specifically reserved for Rajesh, and then they rode the elevator a couple of levels. The one where they got off was unlabeled and had an abandoned look, but the high security snap doors revealed that it was anything but.

Using his ID card, Rajesh got them into his private office, where he exchanged his suit jacket for a white lab coat and handed Tosh one of those, too. Complete with a name tag; one reserved for co-workers, not one usually given to visitors. It simply said ‘Toshiko’, as junior researchers were addressed by their first names at Headquarters.

“Unless you’re an assistant archivist and work for Rupert,” Rajesh added with a grin; a clear sign that his headache was receding. “In which case you’d be addressed as Miss Sato, in complete ignorance of any and all scientific degrees. Of course, it’s a moot point, since you’re a woman and won’t be allowed to work for the Archives anyway.”

“I’m surprised that Yvonne lets your Head Archivist get away with such blatantly sexist behaviour,” Tosh said with a frown.

“Oh, she’s royally pissed off by him,” Rajesh laughed, “but there’s nothing she can do against him. _Nobody_ knows the Archives like Rupert does; he’s simply _needed_.”

“And Yvonne isn’t?” Tosh asked. Rajesh shrugged.

“Well, of course she is; Yvonne is a skilled administrator, but there are others. She _can_ be replaced, if necessary. Rupert cannot, and they both know _that_.”

“Sounds like a pleasant working atmosphere,” Tosh commented dryly.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Rajesh answered dismissively. “Yvonne is fairly easy if you don’t cross her, and Rupert has only one ambition: to have his beloved Archives run at peek efficiency. They’ve arranged themselves, and as long as we’re careful not to get between the fronts, we’re safely ignored by both sides.”

“The problem is: we’re just about to cross Yvonne, big time,” Tosh reminded him. 

Rajesh pulled a face. “Well, yeah, I hate to point it out so bluntly, but it was _your_ idea, wasn’t it?”

“And you agreed… after some lame protests,” Tosh countered.

“Of course I did,” Rajesh said with a snort. “We make no headway with the bloody thing, and if she’s gonna have my head anyway, I’d like to have at least _some_ results yet,” he inserted his ID-card into the slot next to one of the huge snap doors, and it opened with slight reluctance. “Here we are.”

They came into a cavernous room, a very small part of which was a high-tech lab, with instruments along the wall that made Tosh itch instantly to take them apart and see what made them tick. There was clearly a great deal of alien technology involved, some which she had never seen before; but that was to be expected. This was Torchwood “if-it’s-alien-it's-ours” London, after all.

In the middle of the lab area stood Rajesh’s desk, with a laptop running on it, logged into the Tower’s internal comm system, and a pile of Sudoku books. Seeing her baffled look Rajesh shrugged.

“Nothing really happens down here; I _have_ to kill my time somehow. Trust me: it’s the most frustrating project you can imagine.”

He picked up two comm devices – Torchwood-issue ones, which meant they were accordingly enhanced by alien technology – that looked like ear pods and handed one of them Tosh.

“Put it on,” he said. “It will enable you to follow whatever discussions take place on the main channel,” he did the same, then he walked around the lab area and checked various instruments, commenting. “Terrific. We’ve got – nothing. A big, fat nothing, as usual.”

Tosh was barely listening to him, her attention drawn to the enormous sphere, suspended eerily in mid-air at one end of the chamber, filling most of the available space. As Rajesh had mentioned on the previous night, it was bronze in colour and completely smooth. One couldn’t detect any distinctive features upon its gleaming surface. There was a step ladder positioned just below it to provide easier access.

She shivered involuntarily. There was something sinister in the sphere, despite its perfection; as if something inherently dangerous would have been trapped inside, something that would be better left alone. But she had already learned that Headquarters wasn’t very good at letting dangerous things alone, so she was willing to help, if she could. After all, she had faced strange and potentially lethal things all the time while travelling with the Doctor.

She put on the communication device, then climbed up the ladder, grateful for her foresight that had made her put on sensible shoes, so that she could reach out and place a hand on the bottom of the sphere – only that she could not. It was as though there had been an invisible barrier preventing her from doing so. It made the small hairs on her arm and on the back of her neck stand on edge.

“Forcefield?” she murmured.

“Not according to our instruments,” Rajesh answered.

“But something is definitely there,” Tosh strained to break through it, but her hand was thrown aside. “Something that won’t allow me to touch it.”

“I know,” Rajesh said sourly. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried each day, ever since it came through. Perhaps _your_ scanner can tell us what it is.”

“We’ll see,” Tosh climbed back down the ladder and set up her scanner – the one Jack liked to call _Tosh’s-little-blue-box-of-knows-things_ – on Rajesh’s desk.

“If we want results, I’ll need a stronger power source than just the batteries, though,” she said. “This is several magnitudes bigger than tracking down Weevils on the streets of Cardiff at night.”

“You can connect it to our main power source,” Rajesh’s assistant, a tall, bald bloke in his thirties, suggested, showing her the access to the socket.

He didn’t seem surprised or disturbed by her presence at all. They must have had all sorts of experts coming in and trying to help. His name tag, pinned to the breast pocket of his white lab coat, said _Trevor_ , and Tosh wondered briefly who Samuel might be then; that was the name Rajesh had mentioned as his assistant on the previous day. But perhaps he was the assistant from the other shift. Whatever.

Tosh connected the scanner to the power source and the readouts lit up like a Christmas tree. The two men were duly impressed.

“This is the first time _any_ of the instruments would react to the sphere at all!” Trevor exclaimed. “What the hell is this little blue box of yours?”

“It’s just a scanner,” Tosh replied truthfully. She didn’t feel the need to reveal the fact that it had been built aboard the TARDIS, with the help of Time Lord technology. “Albeit an enhanced one, I’ll admit. One of its functions is to react to Vortex energy.”

“Which would be… what exactly?” Rajesh asked.

“Chroniton particles,” Tosh explained. “The side product of time travel. When you cross the Time Vortex, you pick up this sort of radiation; it’s faint, it’s completely harmless, but it’s there nonetheless.”

“ _Time travel_?” Rajesh repeated slowly. “You mean this… this _thing_ is supposed to travel through _time_?”

Tosh shrugged. “I’m not sure. It could have travelled through alternate dimensions as well. We just cannot tell whether chroniton particles are capable of interdimensional travel or not. Theoretically, they shouldn’t be; _nothing_ should be able to do that. But this is a big and very strange universe, and I wouldn’t reject _any_ possibilities out of hand.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about the oddest things,” the guy named Trevor commented.

“I used to work for a government think tank for ten years before joining Torchwood,” Tosh replied, glossing over the exact circumstances that had led to her joining the organization. “I’m used to think outside of the usual sandbox,” she checked her readouts again. “Well, the exact source of the chroniton particles is a little diffuse, but they definitely come from the sphere. I can’t tell you anything else at the moment.”

She knew that some of the chroniton particles originated from her. Like all time travellers, her body was practically saturated with them. But the scanner would never react so strongly to her presence, so there had to be another, much more powerful source, She could not quite pinpoint it, the sphere was playing havoc with her scanner to a certain extent, but it was a sound hypothesis that it _had_ to be the other source.

“Perhaps you’ll have more luck during a ghost shift,” Trevor suggested. “Only twelve minutes left to the next one.”

Tosh raised an eyebrow at Rajesh, not entirely sure whether she was supposed to understand the hint or not. Rajesh grinned.

“Right, I forget that you guys from Applied Physics are not privy to the details,” he said, providing an explanation for his assistant. “It’s about the breach where the sphere came through. You see, it’s like a hole in space-time. It’s usually inactive. But when we fire particle engines at the exact spot, the breach opens up.”

“And the ghosts slip through,” Tosh finished for him, finally getting the whole picture and cringing from the thought how outraged Jack would be once he had learned about _this_. Torchwood Three did their damned best to keep the Cardiff Rift inactive, since they could not seal it, to minimalize the damage the things coming through it might cause. And Headquarters did the exact opposite?

“How did you even find it?” she asked.

“Oh, we were getting warning signs for years,” Rajesh explained. “A radar black-spot of some sort – at least that was what the bosses called it. Then they decided to build Torchwood Tower, with the express intention to reach it; it was six hundred foot above sea level, after all. There was no other way to reach it.”

Tosh shook her head in exasperation. They had built a skyscraper just to reach a spatial anomaly? How much money did they have anyway? Remembering how doggedly Jack had to fight for the necessary upgrades every time the Cardiff branch needed something (like the SUV, for example), she could have punched Yvonne and her cronies in the nose.

“You’re bloody insane, you know that?” she said. "You find a spatial disturbance, and instead of leaving it frigging alone, like every sane person would do, you start probing it, even though you must have known how much trouble the Cardiff Rift has caused during the last two centuries. And when this thing came through,” she waved in the direction of the sphere,” tearing a hole in the fabric of reality, you still can’t leave it alone, can you? No, you build particle engines to make it even bigger. Do you realize that you could get everyone in this city killed? And for what?”

“Well, it's a massive source of energy,” Trevor pointed out.

“So is the Cardiff Rift, but the only result is that it regularly threatens the existence of the entire city,” Tosh returned.

"Yeah, because the ground looks like a Swiss cheese from all those abandoned coal mines,” Trevor countered. “But if we can harness the power of _this_ breach, we’ll never need to depend on the oil of the Middle East again. We could become truly independent.”

“Don’t mind Trevor,” Rajesh commented in a bored tone. “He’s listened to Yvonne’s PR speeches for too long.”

“No, I haven’t!” Trevor protested. “I mean it. Look, you can see for yourself. Next ghost shift is just about to begin. We can tap into the internal surveillance system and show you the Rift chamber.”

Tosh glanced at Rajesh who nodded. “We can. It’s completely illegal of course, but when did _that_ stop scientific curiosity? Would you like to see it?”

“Yeah, I would,” Tosh replied. And she did.

The Cardiff Rift wasn’t a _visible_ thing. All they knew about it had been gained by instruments. What they got to see were only the results, most of them not very pleasant. But she wouldn’t say no if offered the chance to see a spatio-temporal or probably _interdimensional_ rift opening, and caution be damned!

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Trevor adjusted some instruments, and the laptop screen on Rajesh’s desk was now showing the same busy office on the top level in which she had met Yvonne yesterday. It apparently also dubbed as the Rift chamber. The director of Torchwood One was just stepping out of her office – which was separated from the main area with a glass partition – to address the staff

“Two minutes to the next shift,” she told them. "Let's make it a good one, people. Yesterday’s record measured the ghost energy at five thousand gigawatts. See if we can top _that_ today.”

She was interrupted by a young couple returning to their desks and rolled her eyes.

“Come on, you two,” she said as if addressing naughty school children. 

“I'm sorry we're late,” the young woman said. Tosh recognized her as Adeola, but something about her seemed… odd. Her face was blank and her eyes were a bit glassy. What had these two been up to?

Yvonne, however, had no time to discipline them right now – if she’d indeed planned to do so.

“Save it 'til later,” she snapped, ignoring the murmured apologies of the male half of the couple. Tosh wondered whether the young man was Adeola’s sweetheart, or the two just happened to come back at the same time. Somehow she doubted it.

Yvonne looked around, addressing the room at large now. “Aaand powering up,” she announced proudly, as if she’d been the one who had built the particle engine with her own hands. She was certainly dedicated to her job, one had to give her that much.

Behind another glass partition two scientists began to push the levers of what must have been the particle engine upwards. The light in the room brightened gradually. Yvonne sauntered forwards, putting on a pair of sunglasses.

“And... we're into Ghost Shift,” she announced.

“Online,” the voice of the computer acknowledged.

The light increased so much that Tosh had to turn her eyes away; it hurt, even via laptop screen. Suddenly, though, an alarm went off in the Rift Chamber. Yvonne, started, hurried over to the desk of a young tech, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

“What happened, Matt?”

The young man, whose name was apparently Matt, worked on his computer furiously. “Something's interfering with the ghost field,” he said, baffled.

“Location?” Yvonne’s voice was icy with cold fury.

“It's close...” Matt replied. “Within the City somewhere.”

“Find it,” Yvonne ordered; then she looked over to the scientists operating the particle engines. “Close it down,” she said urgently. “Close it down!”

The two men hurried to obey, pulling the levers down again, pushing them into space. The light dimmed, signalling the end of the ghost shift.

“Offline,” the computer voice announced.

Yvonne returned to Matt. “Well? Could you localize the source of the disturbance?”

“It was a very specific excitation of the ghost field, and that makes it easy to pinpoint,” the young man replied, clearly starting some sort of search programme. “Almost there... South London,” he typed some more. “South East 15,” he looked up, brow furrowed. “It's a council estate. The Powell Estate. SU15 7GO. It was a public area.“

Yvonne nodded, her expression one of dark satisfaction. “Can we patch into the CCTV network?”

Matt was already tapping on the keyboard. “Doing it now.”

From their vantage point in the sphere lab, Tosh and Rajesh couldn’t see Matt’s computer screen of course. Their choices were reduced to watching Yvonne and Matt watch the CCTV footage on said screen.

“Here we go,” Matt said. “We've got a camera within fifty yards.“

Their eyes widened almost comically as the footage changed… as though they've seen a miracle of some sort. A miracle they had waited for for a long time.

“Oh my God…” Yvonne whispered in stunned disbelief.

Matt adjusted something on his screen, probably zooming in closer. “Is it _him_?”

Yvonne gasped. “It's him,” she stood up, breathless with wonder, as if she could not believe what she'd just seen – but she’d known what it meant nevertheless. “It’s him,” she repeated breathlessly. “He's coming.”

She laughed in disbelief and hurried from the room. In the next moment, Rajesh’s comm device came alive. Running down the corridor, she practically shouted into his ear. “Rajesh. It's _him_! He's coming.”

“ _Who_ is coming?” Tosh asked in frustration.

Instead of answering her, Rajesh ran up the first few steps to the sphere, staring up at it with an unholy glee.

“Now we've got you!” he told it.

“Raji, _who_ is coming?” Tosh repeated the question with such a hard edge in her voice that it snapped him out of his daydreams.

“Why, the Doctor, of course,” he replied. “Haven’t you read the Torchwood Charta when you joined? He’s an alien, travelling with a time machine that looks just like an old-fashioned police box. It’s called the TARDIS, and…”

“I know what the TARDIS is,” Tosh interrupted. “Don’t forget whom I work for. I still don’t understand why the Doctor would wish to come here, though.”

“Perhaps he’s every bit as concerned about the ghosts as you are,” Rajesh guessed. “Perhaps he’s tracked back the signal of the ghost field to its origin – _here_ – and wants to investigate.”

“That would be quite foolish of him,” Trevor said. “After all, he’s named in the Torchwood Charter as an enemy of the Crown.”

“Yeah, but does he actually _know_ that?” Rajesh asked. “Does he know that Torchwood exists in the first place?”

 _That_ was a very good question indeed. As far as Tosh knew, the Doctor – at least _her_ Doctor, the same one Jack had used to know – had never encountered Torchwood before. _She_ certainly had not named him the organization she worked for (or Jack for that matter), out of fear that she might contaminate the timeline. So he might still be clueless.

“Which would mean he’s going to walk straight into a trap,” she said quietly, torn in the inside whether she should try to find a way to warn him or not.

“Quite likely,” Rajesh agreed, not the least concerned about that possibility, “but I’m sure Yvonne will make him as welcome and as comfortable as humanly possible. And imagine all the things we could learn from him!”

“ _If_ he’s willing to teach is,” Tosh said doubtfully. “What if he thinks we ought to learn things on our own?”

“Perhaps he does,” Rajesh said with a shrug. “But Yvonne is very good at persuading people to do her bidding. That’s why she was made Director of the Torchwood Institute.”

That sounded vaguely sinister and made Tosh wonder whether the sizeable paycheck had been the only thing that had made Rajesh choose to work for Torchwood instead of teaching at university, for which he would have had the right qualifications, too. Unlike the majority, he had _not_ been hired right out of college. And a man with two children could easily be pressured into accepting the job through his family. She would not put it beyond Yvonne to do exactly that if she had wanted Rajesh badly enough for her projects.

Suddenly she felt a gentle prickling on her skin; a feeling she hadn’t had since last October… since the earthquake in Cardiff, caused by the schemes of the false Mayor Margaret Blaine. She knew what it meant: the TARDIS was coming. The TARDIS key that she always wore on a chain around her neck was reacting to it, vibrating gently.

“Can you track down Yvonne?” Rajesh asked his assistant in the meantime. “I’d like to see the TARDIS arriving. This is a historic moment for Torchwood.”

“Sure,” Trevor adjusted the instruments and called up the image of a busy factory floor, just in time for them to see a blue police box materializing out of thin air.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The man who came out of the TARDIS seemed unfamiliar to Tosh, but he could hardly be anyone else but the Doctor in his latest incarnation. It was hard for her to reconcile this impossibly young and slightly manic person with the memory of the man she had come to love and respect like a father. The whole thing was slightly… unsettling.

The security cameras provided only images from the factory floor, no sound, but it was obvious from the sight alone that Yvonne was holding _the_ big welcome committee for him – _and_ that he enjoyed being celebrated like some sort of film star. Clearly, the UNIT files – acquired by Jack in slightly dubious ways – had been right. Regeneration did not change the Doctor’s looks alone; it also changed his personality, and not for the better, in Tosh’s opinion, if his new, self-important attitude was any indication. She suddenly missed her old friend badly.

And who was the dumb-faced blonde woman with him? Surely, it couldn’t be his precious Rose; _she_ was what? Nineteen years old? This woman was at least forty… although there _was_ a certain similarity… Tosh had only got brief glimpses of Rose Tyler during the Blaine crisis in Cardiff, and frankly, she couldn’t understand what both Jack and the Doctor saw in her: an uneducated teenager, as common as dirt and lacking any common sense.

All right, she could understand the Doctor, at least. During their time together, the Doctor had told her a little about his granddaughter and how he still missed her. Perhaps Rose reminded him of Susan, despite the light years of intellectual difference and brain potential between the two of them. As for Jack, well… some men simply had a soft spot for dumb blondes. It was deeply unfair, but that was life.

Her somewhat bitter thoughts were interrupted by the crack of the comm device. It was Yvonne.

“Rajesh,” she said, “we’re going down to you with the Doctor. Perhaps _he_ can tell us what the sphere is.”

“I hope so,” Rajesh grinned, rubbing his hands in expectation. Tosh, on the other hand, seriously panicked.

“She can’t find me here, Raji,” she said urgently. “I must get out before she arrives!” She wasn’t really sure whom she wanted to avoid more: Yvonne or this new version of the Doctor who, quite frankly, frightened her for some reason she couldn’t explain.

“Right, you’re right, of course,” Rajesh thought for a moment frantically. “Trevor, take her to the observation room below and send in Samuel. I want you to watch and record everything what might be going on from there, just in case. That’s where our best surveillance equipment is installed.”

“This way,” Trevor herded Tosh into a small side chamber, from where a short string of metal stairs led down to a security chamber full of surveillance screens, on which various sections of the lab complex could be watched simultaneously. What was even better, here they could have audio as well, which was a definite advantage.

They got down just in time to see Yvonne enter Rajesh’s lab, with the Doctor, the blonde cow and some soldiers in tow and wave around herself with proprietary pride.

“Well, what do you make of that?”

Rajesh straightened her lab coat and approached the Doctor in awe, trying to introduce himself. The regenerated Time Lord ignored him completely, though, gazing open-mouthed up at the sphere. Poor Rajesh lowered his extended hand like a kicked puppy and averted his eyes.

Tosh watched them discussing the sphere – the _Void Ship_ , as the Doctor called it – and her respect for Jack Harkness went up several notches. After all, Jack had come to the same conclusions, without the help of any condescending Time Lords.

Granted, even the Doctor _she_ had known could be condescending at times. That came from being so old and having seen so much. But _her_ Doctor wouldn’t have insulted a name-worthy scientist like Rajesh by simply ignoring him. And he’d never have left Jack behind on that space station, dying _or_ dead. Seeing this new version of him, she now could believe it; and felt terribly sorry for Jack, who had been waiting for the return of _his_ Doctor for almost two hundred years, not knowing that all he would find, should they meet one day, was this indifferent stranger.

Tosh touched the TARDIS key under her blouse. It felt warm, and she knew it was glowing, soft and golden, within its ornate protective casing. If she could somehow find the TARDIS and slip into her undetected, she might use her board systems to find out more about the sphere… the _Void Ship_. If anything, Time Lord technology at its purest ought to do the trick. Her self-built little scanner, although better than anything even Headquarters could have come up with, was simply not strong enough.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Yvonne and her entourage had left the sphere lab in the meantime and returned to the rift chamber, to witness the beginning of the next ghost shift. The Doctor did his best to persuade Yvonne to cancel it, but to no end. His warning felt to deaf ears by her.

“Oh, exactly as the legends would have it,” she said tartly. “The Doctor, lording it over us. Assuming alien authority over the rights of Man.”

Tosh hated to admit, but she was right about _that_. Even her Doctor displayed authoritative tendencies over “mere” humans; yes, he’d even been rude at times, but she’d never had the slightest doubt that he’d have their best interests on his mind. With this new incarnation, she was not quite so sure. The case of Harriet Jones had been quite the eye-opener.

Still, the argument wasn’t over yet.

“Let me show you,” the Doctor said to Yvonne. 

He took his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and stood on the other side of the glass partition between Yvonne's office and the main area. 

“Here did the sphere come through,” he said, pointing the sonic screwdriver at the glass and activating it. The glass splintered and the crack extended outwards, continuing to do so as the Doctor spoke. 

“But when it made the hole, it cracked the world around it,” he explained. “The entire surface of this dimension, splintered. And that's how the ghosts get through. That's how they get everywhere. They're bleeding through the fault lines. Walking from their world, across the Void, and into yours. With the Human race hoping and wishing and helping them along! But too many ghosts, and...” 

He placed the lightest fingertip on the glass and the whole thing shattered, falling from the frame. 

Yvonne still wasn’t completely persuaded, and who could blame her? She didn’t know the Doctor as well as Tosh did. She only knew what she had _read_ about him – she lacked personal experience.

“Well, in that case we'll have to be more careful,” she replied with a shrug and turned to the staff. “Positions! Ghost Shift in one minute.”

The Doctor jogged after her. “Ms Hartman, I am asking you – please, don't do it.”

Yvonne waved off his concerns, now clearly annoyed with him. “We have done this a thousand times.”

“Then _stop_ at a thousand!” the Doctor yelled furiously, and Tosh winced. An enraged Time Lord was not someone you wanted to encounter. It hadn’t happened often that she would see him angry, but none of those cases had been a pretty sight.

Yvonne, who had no way of knowing it, still wasn’t taking his warnings seriously. “We are in control of the ghosts,” she replied. “The levers can open the breach, but equally they can _close_ it."

There could be no doubt that she meant that honestly. She believed in her work, she was dedicated to it, and there was nothing wrong with that _per se_. The problem was that any assessment of the risks of the ghost project had been based on the best data available, but with completely alien phenomena involved, there simply was not enough reliable data to even understand the dangers involved, never mind the likelihood of those things actually happening.

The bottom line was: Yvonne was not a scientist. She was an administrator, and a good one; and the same traits that made her such a good executive also made it not easy for her to back off, no matter what. She and the Doctor stared at each other for a few moments, a battle of wills, then the Doctor walked off into her office and grabbed a chair.

“Okay then,” he said lightly.

Yvonne raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?!”

The Doctor flapped his hand generously. “Never mind! As you were.”

“What, is that it?” Yvonne couldn’t quite believe his sudden change of heart, and Tosh didn’t blame her for that. The Doctor was known for sticking to his opinions, no matter which incarnation he might be in.

Now, however, he was settling down in the chair with a falsely amiable expression. 

“No! Fair enough,” he shrugged. “Said my bit. Don't mind me. Any chance of a cup of tea?”

“Ghost Shift in twenty seconds,” Adeola, still wearing that strangely bleak expression, interrupted.

“Mmmm!” the Doctor said brightly. “Can't _wait_ to see it!”

Yvonne shot him a suspicious look. “You can't stop us, Doctor.”

“No, absolutely not!” the Doctor agreed; then he turned to the dumb-faced blonde he had stated would be his companion. “Pull up a chair, Rose! Come and watch the fireworks.” The blonde went to stand behind his chair with expectation. Apparently, she still hadn’t realized there might be danger – just how stupid _was_ she and where had the Doctor picked her up?

“Ghost Shift in ten seconds. Nine... eight...” Adeola was counting down monotonously.

Yvonne was uneasy. She stared at the Doctor. He raised his eyebrows at her, as if daring her to go through with it. 

Adeola kept counting down emotionlessly. “Seven... six... five... four... three... two...”

… and that was when Yvonne broke. “Stop the shift,” she called out. “I said stop. “

The Doctor made a small bow towards her, without rising from his chair. “Thank you.“

Yvonne tried to look like she was still in control of the situation. “I suppose it makes sense to get as much intelligence as possible,” she said, sounding the slightest bit forced. “But the program will recommence, as soon as you've explained everything.”

The Doctor inclined his head in mock seriousness. “I'm glad to be of help.”

Yvonne rolled her eyes and addressed the room at large. “And someone clear up this glass,” she glanced at the Doctor wryly. “They did warn me, Doctor. They said you like to make a mess.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
As the Doctor and Yvonne seemed to have come to an impasse, Tosh turned her attention to another screen: the one that showed Rajesh’s lab directly above them. Rajesh was sitting at his desk, presumably following the events in the rift chamber on his laptop, while the assistant Trevor had called in was checking some of the instruments set in the back wall. The sphere – the _Void Ship_ – was doing his usual: nothing. It was simply hanging in the air, emanating the same vague threat, but that was all.

“I guess we can go back now,” Tosh said uncertainly.

Trevor gave her a shrewd look. “You go. I’ll keep recording here and warn you, should Yvonne decide to pay the lab another visit.”

“What do you mean?” Tosh asked with a frown.

Trevor grinned. “Oh, c’mon, Doctor Sato, this isn’t the first time I've seen you with Doctor Singh. I know you work for the Cardiff branch, and I know Yvonne would tear Doctor Singh a new one for letting you see that… that _thing_ above us. No, don’t worry,” he added hurriedly, “I won’t report either of you. Doctor Singh is a great guy and I hope he’ll find out what that thing is doing here, so that he can return to his own research again. This isn’t exactly his area of expertise… or mine. But I’m just a lab assistant, my time isn’t half as precious as his.”

“Why did Yvonne assign him to this project anyway?” Tosh asked. “He’s a xenobiologist, not an engineer. Did she assume that someone – or something – was inside the… the _Void Ship_?”

“Yeah; and based on what the Doctor has just said, she must have been right,” Trevor replied. “You mustn’t underestimate Yvonne. She might be ruthless and ambitious, even a bit fanatic when it comes to her dream about a new British Empire, but she’s not a fool. She gives her people a great deal of leeway because she wants us to give her our best – and we do, because we enjoy our work here, despite the stress and the set-backs and yes, even the risks. But she knows very well what we’re doing. Not necessarily the minute technical details, but she’s got a good, solid understanding about the projects running here at any given time.”

“She must have got a phenomenal memory, then,” Tosh said, impressed. Trevor shook his head.

“She does have a good memory indeed, perhaps better than your average executive, but she only keeps the general overview in her own head. When it comes to the details, she relies heavily on the archivists; we all do. Without them, work in Torchwood Tower would be seriously hampered. The scientists make the discoveries, but it’s the archivists who keep the whole place running.”

“But you have those Digital Archives,” Tosh said. “An entire floor of them. I’ve seen it from the lift.”

“Four levels, actually,” Trevor corrected. “Two hundred years of research and information from time-displaced humans and aliens, stored on encoded hard discs, so that even if an exceptionally talented hacker would manage to break into our network, he’d only find the research that’s currently running. For everything else, we need the archivists. Only the archivists are familiar with the filing system; without them, it would take us forever to find even the right disc. And should we find it, we’d still need an archivist, since only they know the codes. Granted, safety copies from the codes and passwords are hidden in places known to Doctor Howarth and Yvonne alone. But the junior archivists know them by heart – each for his own specified area, that is.”

Tosh’s mind bogged by that concept: archivists as the secret power behind the throne. It did have a certain nerdy attraction, though, she had to admit that much.

“So, if I wanted to study previous research on, say, the Dogons…” she began.

“…you’d have to turn to the assistant archivist assigned to the xenobiology department,” Trevor finished for her. “Who, in our case, would be Ianto Jones. Which would also mean that you’d get treated to the best cup of coffee on this planet… presumably on any other planet where the aliens happen to know coffee, too.”

Tosh laughed, remembering the neat, polite, quietly sarcastic young man they had met in the lift the day before. “That was what Rajesh said.”

“And he was right, even though he wouldn’t be able to make a difference between really good coffee and that dishwasher stuff served by Starbucks,” Trevor said. “Yvonne always gets her daily fix in the Archives, even if she has to endure Doctor Howarth’s attitude in exchange. And Doctor LaFiamma from Applied Physics says that Ianto’s coffee is the best he’s ever had – not a small compliment, coming from an Italian.”

“Must be something like a Japanese gourmet chef complimenting an English housewife on her way of preparing rice,” Tosh grinned, starting to climb the steps that led to Rajesh’s lab.

“I’ll take your word on _that_ ,” Trevor answered, returning to his surveillance monitors.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“Ghost shift has been cancelled, Doctor Singh,” the assistant was saying at the same moment as Tosh re-entered the lab. Rajesh nodded absently, his eyes still on his laptop screen; he must have watched something else than the events in the rift chamber, then.

“Thanks, Samuel,” he said. “Toshiko, can you see any difference between these results and the ones recorded _before_ the Doctor would take a look at the sphere?”

So, he was checking the data still being fed to his laptop via Tosh’s little blue box. But Tosh wasn’t listening to him. She was staring at the assistant, Samuel: a young black man with extremely short-cropped hair, wearing the usual white lab coat and name tag. She had the feeling that she’d seen the man somewhere before; and it _hadn’t_ been in London. She was positive she’d seen him in Cardiff, she just couldn’t quite remember where or when. The hair – or rather the almost complete lack of it – seemed wrong, somehow, but she was sure they’d already met.

Not getting any answer, Rajesh looked up at her a little impatiently. “Toshiko?”

Despite whatever was going on between them, when at work, Rajesh was completely focused on the task at his hands – and expected the same from his co-workers, temporary or not. Realizing that she’d been asked a work-related question, Tosh hurriedly pulled herself together, postponing the problem of Samuel’s identity for alter. She went to the desk and looked at the readouts over Rajesh’s shoulder.

“Hmmm… there’s a slight increase of the density of chroniton particles coming from the _Void Ship_ ,” she said with a frown.

“Which would mean – what exactly?” Rajesh asked.

“I’m not really sure,” Tosh admitted. “It could be, of course, that the scanner simply reacts to the Doctor’s presence; he’s a time traveller, after all, so he must be saturated with chroniton particles. On the other hand, it is also possible that the _Void Ship_ is about to open – in which case I can’t even begin to predict the possible consequences.”

“You mean it can be dangerous,” Rajesh said.

“That’s always the risk we have to take when handling unknown technology,” Tosh replied. “Even with all necessary precautions, we simply don’t know what dangers are involved. The only way to be safe would have been _not_ to bother that thing at all.”

“Which would kinda contradict the purpose of scientific research and discovery,” Rajesh pointed out.

“I know,” Tosh sighed. “Every time when scientific or technological innovations are tested, there’s the latent possibility of a big disaster. The one is almost inseparable from the other. I still think you guys should have left the bloody rift alone; but that’s a moot point now, isn’t it? The _Void Ship_ is here, and we’ll have to deal whatever it has brought into our world.”

She went to readjust the scanner when the door opened and a young blonde girl came in, wearing a white lab coat but without a name tag. Again, she struck Tosh as fleetingly familiar, and again, the memory seemed to be related to Cardiff. That was definitely strange. Either she was starting to see _real_ ghosts, or someone had infiltrated Headquarters. Which in itself was no small feat, making Tosh wonder who aside from the Doctor would be able to do so.

The girl walked into the lab, slowly, almost hesitatingly. Her eyes were fixed on the Void Ship, as if hypnotized by it. Rajesh spotted her, too, and rose from behind his desk, approaching her.

“Can I help you?“ his voice was coldly polite. He did not like people walking into his lab uninvited.

She answered as if in trance, not looking away from the sphere. “I was just...”

“Try not to look,” Rajesh warned. “It does that to everyone. What do you want?“

Now she finally turned to him, quite apparently making up a suitable answer as she was going. “Sorry. Um... they sent me from personnel. They said some man had been taken prisoner. Some sort of doctor? I'm just... checking the lines of communication, did they tell you anything?”

Tosh rolled her eyes because frankly, this was the clumsiest attempt to lie she’d ever heard. Rajesh seemed to share her opinion, but he was still fairly polite as he went on questioning her.

“Can I see your authorisation?”

“Sure,” she handed him what seemed a piece of paper in a plastic casing, now obviously very certain in herself. Rajesh checked it.

“That's lucky,” he said, and the girl gave him a decidedly smug smile. However, he looked at her and his voice grew ice cold. “You see, everyone at Torchwood has at least a basic level of psychic training,” the girl’s smile faded, not quite following what he was hinting at. Rajesh continued in the same calm, even manner. “This paper is blank. And you're a fake.” He touched his comm device. “Trevor, seal the lab. Call security,” then he looked at his assistant. “Samuel? Can you check the door locks? She just walked right in.”

The black guy in the white lab coat turned to them. “Doing it now, sir.”

But his eyes rested on the girl, warningly, and he put a finger to his lips, giving her the thumbs up behind Rajesh’s back, grinning.

“Well,” Rajesh said to the girl with exaggerated hospitality. “If you'd like to take a seat.”

She nodded, seemingly lost for words, not even noticing Tosh’s presence who was fumbling with her scanner still. Tosh, however, decided to keep an eye on her – and on the potentially fake assistant – because that trick with the blank paper was tantalizingly familiar. The Doctor had done something like that on occasion. He had called the thing _psychic paper_ , explaining that it read one’s thoughts and caused itself to display the expected form. 

Of course, with Torchwood-issue psychic training one could easily see through the illusion. And since Rajesh had been trained to deal with potentially telepathic alien life forms, _his_ training had been way above basic level. Not to mention that he was an intelligent man who recognized a clumsy attempt to fool him – for which reason he was contacting the rift chamber right now.

“Yvonne? I think you should see this. We've got a visitor,” he said, turning the webcam to the blonde girl, while Tosh was backing off quickly to stay out of the focus of the camera. “We don't know who she is, but funnily enough, she arrived at the same time as the Doctor. _And_ she tried to fool me, showing me a blank piece of paper instead of any proper authorization.”

There was a moment of silence, then Yvonne’s wryly amused voice came through the comm. “She one of yours?”

“No,” the Doctor replied promptly. “Never seen her before in my life.”

“Good!” Yvonne said with deep satisfaction, clearly aware of the fact that he was lying through his teeth. “Then we can have her shot.”

 _Please, do!_ Tosh prayed, remembering the Doctor’s completely besotted gushing about his young companion. No, _besotted_ was probably the false word. He’d behaved like a father totally blinded towards any possible failure his oh-so-perfect daughter might _possibly_ have. It hadn’t been quite so bad while Tosh had been travelling with him – he’d only known Rose for a short time back then – but it had become _really_ annoying by the time of the Slitheen crisis in Cardiff. 

Now Tosh realized why both the girl and Rajesh’s supposed assistant seemed so familiar; they’d both been with the Doctor in Cardiff, last October; together with a younger, still mortal Jack Harkness. She wondered what Jack would say when he learned that the same Doctor who had abandoned _him_ for no acceptable reason would give up any cover story he’d mcgyvered together at a whim of his heart, to protect his precious Rose.

Because, of course, the Doctor could not let her come to any harm, even if it was her own doing, so he ‘fessed up in a second. Tosh found it hysterically funny that he had to endure Rose’s mother, of whom he’d used to speak in the most derogatory of tones. Especially that this current incarnation of him seemed a great deal more vain than the previous ones.

His banter with Yvonne was interrupted by the sound of the particle engines starting up. Rajesh frowned.

“Yvonne? I thought you said the next ghost shift was cancelled. What’s going on? Yvonne?”

He got no reply from the rift chamber. Tosh hurried to the sever control screen to check out what was happening to the system, while they could hear Yvonne scream at her staff, demanding that they stop what they were doing and step away from their desks, RIGHT NOW! Nobody seemed to follow her orders, though.

“They're overriding the system!” Tosh realized, blanching. “We're going into ghost shift, at full power!”

“Can’t you do something?” Rajesh asked anxiously. “You’re a computer genius… I can give you the override password.”

Tosh was already at it, her fingers hushing about the keyboard in a rapid dance. “Password!” she snapped at Rajesh. “Quickly! They’re demonically fast, I can’t stay ahead of them much longer!”

Rajesh gave her the password and she typed it in so quickly that her fingers became a blur – but still not quickly enough.

“It’s over,” she said glumly. “They’ve locked me out; though I can’t understand how; _no-one_ is faster at the keyboard than I am. No-one!”

“Unless they’re guided by something a lot faster than human reflexes,” Samuel said grimly; at their surprised looks, he added. “It's the ear-piece controlling them. I've seen this before.”

“But these are standard comm devices,” Rajesh hurriedly removed his own earpiece and stared at it suspiciously. “How could they control anyone?”

“Trust me,” Samuel replied darkly,” you don’t wanna know.”

Rajesh looked as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t come to it. The whole lab started to shudder without forewarning. “What the hell’s going on here?”

Tosh checked her readouts. “The disturbance comes directly from the sphere.”

“It can’t be!” Rajesh hurried over to the sphere, Rose and Samuel hot on his heals, and stared up at it anxiously. 

Another crash could be heard from within the thing, and the words SPHERE ACTIVATED flashed across the screen of Rajesh’s laptop.

“It’s active!” Rajesh darted back to the webcam and yelled frantically. “We've got a problem down here. Yvonne, can you hear me?” he got no answer, and the sphere started vibrating continually. “Yvonne, for God's sake – the sphere is active!” he whirled around to Tosh. “Do you have any readings?”

“I’ve got weight, mass, an electromagnetic field – the whole none miles,” Tosh replied with barely controlled scientific excitement. “Whatever it was doing before, the sphere definitely exists in our reality now. As if it had just finished crossing the interdimensional void!”

She jumped, startled, when there was a loud crash behind her, and turned around jut in time to see the security doors closing down. “What was that?”

“Automatic quarantine,” Rajesh answered tiredly. “The doors are sealed. We can't get out – not until someone overrides the security system.”

“Who has the authority to do that?” Tosh asked, stomping down her increasing panic ruthlessly. Rajesh gave her a defeated look.

“Only Yvonne; and Rupert Howarth, but I can’t reach either of them.”

“I can try to hack into the security files,” Tosh offered, but Rajesh shook his head.

“It would take too long, even for you,” he gestured towards the now continuously vibrating sphere. “That thing is gonna open any moment now. Gather your equipment and go down to Trevor. You might give it a try from there, although chances are slim.”

“I won’t leave you here with this thing!” Tosh protested, but Rajesh took her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes.

“This is _my_ responsibility, Toshiko. But I can only deal with it when I know you’re not in immediate danger. Please, go down to Trevor. Do it for me, will you?”

After a heartbeat of hesitation Tosh nodded. He pressed a brief, desperate kiss onto her lips, then turned back to the sphere, steeling himself to face whatever might come out of it eventually. Tosh collected her little blue box and rushed to the only door still open: the one leading to the security room below. It was a rat trap, unless it had another exit (which she doubted), but if it made Rajesh believe she’d be safe there, she would not argue.

She stopped right behind the door, though, leaving it open for a finger’s breadth, eager to see what would happen. Being protective might give _Rajesh_ the strength to deal with the situation, but _she_ was a scientist. She simply _had_ to see.

“It's all right, babe,” she could hear Samuel comfort the Doctor’s blonde git. “We beat them before, we can beat them again. That's why I'm here. The fight goes on.”

“The fight against _what_?” Rose asked stupidly.

“What d'you think?” Samuel replied with marked impatience, making Tosh wonder what the hell they were referring to. But then she had to fight to keep her balance, as two violent crashes emitted from the sphere, shaking the lab roughly. She held onto the doorframe, because these two definitely knew more than everyone else, and if _they_ did know something, Tosh wanted to know it, too.

“We had them beaten, but then they escaped,” Samuel explained. “The Cybermen just – just vanished.”

The _Cybermen?_ They were talking about the bloody _Cybermen_?

Like all companions, past _or_ present, Tosh, too, had heard of the mechanical menace enough to realize the threat they represented. But how had they found their way to Earth?

“They found a way through the Void to this dimension,” Samuel was explaining to Rose. “But so did we. We followed them, and we’ll beat them here, too.”

“But – but the Doctor said that was impossible,” Rose protested. Tosh rolled her eyes at the stupid argument. Sure, the Doctor was old and knew a lot, but he wasn’t omniscient. He could make mistakes – especially when arrogance overcame his better judgement.

“Yeah, well it's not the first time he's been wrong,” Samuel countered, as if reading Tosh’s thoughts.

There was another loud crash, and Rose frowned. “What's inside that sphere?” she wondered. Samuel shrugged.

“No one knows. Cyber Leader, Cyber King, Emperor of the Cybermen,” he broke into a broad, almost manic grin. “Whatever it is, he's dead meat.” Clearly, the Doctor’s delusions were contagious.

Rose apparently didn’t see it so, though, because she nudged Samuel. “It’s good to see you again.”

He grinned back at her. “Yeah. It's good to see you too.”

 _How nice of them to rekindle their romance, or whatever used to be between them, while we’re all trapped down here_ , Tosh thought sourly. She hated it when other people had more info than she did. She preferred to be the one with the knowledge. Besides, she had the bad feeling that Samuel’s self-confidence might not be entirely well-founded.

Rajesh must have felt the same thing, because he was speaking into the comm with desperate urgency, while the entire lab was shaking around them, accompanied by booms from the sphere.

“Can anyone hear me? Come on, I need help down here! We’re sealed in, I need…”

In that moment, the sphere stopped vibrating. Eerie silence filled the cavernous room. Rajesh put his glasses back on and approached the sphere cautiously, while Samuel removed his lab coat and pulled off his earpiece.

“Here we go,” he said softly.

As they watched, smooth cracks appeared in the sphere, and it slowly began to open, like the petals of some gigantic, metallic flower. Light spilled from the gaps, golden light, not entirely unlike that in the console room of the TARDIS. Curious…

The computer beeped and the warning SPHERE ACTIVATED. SPHERE ACTIVATED. SPHERE ACTIVATED. SPHERE ACTIVATED flashed across its screen continuously.

“I know what's in there,” Samuel said grimly. “And I'm ready for them. I've got just the thing,” he retrieved a weapon that he had been apparently hiding under a counter, and then positioned himself in front of the sphere in a horribly cheesy superhero comic manner. “This is gonna blast them to Hell.”

Rajesh stared at him in shocked surprise. “Samuel, what are you doing?”

“The name's Mickey,” his assistant told him, in a _really_ bad imitation of James Bond. “Mickey Smith. Defending the Earth,” and he cocked his gun as the sphere parted further.

“Well, in that case I hope your big gun work on polycarbide,” Tosh muttered as the top part of something that looked like a gigantic pepper pot emerged from the sphere, “Because _that_ ’s not a Cyberman.”

Watching for a terrible moment as four Daleks glided smoothly from the sphere, Tosh then very slowly, very carefully closed the security door and hurried down to Trevor’s little pigeonhole below. She knew she needed to find a way to override the security system, or else they’d be all dead in no time.

You couldn’t work for Jack Harkness and not know what the Daleks were – less so if you had once been the travelling companion of a Time Lord. For _Tosh’s_ Doctor, the Daleks might have been just a terrible memory. But _her_ Jack had fought them – and been killed by them – on Satellite Five, so she knew all too well how hopeless their situation was. It would have been fairly hopeless with Jack and his sonic blaster on their side; with him in Cardiff, clueless, and his sonic weapon confiscated by the Doctor, their chances were like zero – _very_ carefully calculated.

Still, she had to try opening at least a way of escape for them Headquarters’ security experts might have been good, but she was Toshiko Sato, computer genius and ex-companion. She was better than them. She could do this.

Or so she hoped.

Nonetheless, she could feel her blood freeze to ice as – even through the three-inch-thick steel of the security door – she could hear the mechanical screaming of the Doctor’s arch enemies:

“Exterminate! Exterminate! EXTERMINATE!”


	4. Desolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is practically a retelling of the episodes “Army of Ghosts” and “Doomsday”, from Toshiko’s POV, assuming that she experienced some of the events from the sidelines. Slightly AU, so certain events will be a tad different. Some lines of dialogue are borrowed from the actual episodes, though.

**CHAPTER THREE – DESOLATION**

“What the hell are those things?” Trevor stared at the screen showing the sphere room with unabashed horror.

“They’re called the Daleks,” Tosh replied shooing him away from the security server, so that she could take over security controls; _if_ she could hack into the system, that is. “The Time Lords – that is, the people of the Doctor – and the Daleks have been enemies for… well, just about forever. Until the Time War brought everything to an end,” she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “You work for Torchwood and never heard about the Daleks?”

“Hey, I’m just a loan from Cybernetics,” Trevor said defensively. “I never studied actual aliens. What’s the Time War?”

“Something that ought to have gotten rid of the Daleks, yet obviously failed to do so,” Tosh replied, not willing to go into any details right now. She needed to focus on the task at her hands. The security system of Torchwood Tower was extremely redundant.

It seemed that Samuel – or rather Mickey Smith, whoever he might be – was almost as clueless as Trevor. He was still trying to pretend in the face of the Daleks, to whom Rose was talking in a goading manner. The evil pepper shakers of Hell were, in the meantime, preoccupied with more important things.

“Report,” one of them screeched. “What is the status of the Genesis Ark?”

“Status – hibernation,” the other one answered.

“Commence awakening,” the first one said.

“The Genesis Ark must be protected above all else,” the fourth one added, turning to the conical device that was emerging from the sphere and clamping its suction arm to the side of it.

“I thought you said the garbage bins were all dead,” Mickey commented, still pointing his gun at the Daleks.

“Never mind that,” Rose was barely listening to him. “What the hell's a Genesis Ark?”

“That’s a good question,” Trevor muttered; then he glanced at Tosh. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about it, have you?”

Tosh shook her head. “No; but somehow I’ve got the feeling that it’s nothing good. The name alone makes my skin crawl. What’s going on in the rift chamber?”

“Yvonne exchanging witty remarks with the robots,” Trevor replied.

“Cybermen,” Tosh corrected. “They still have some organic components; usually the brain. Robots don’t.”

Trevor shrugged. “Whatever. Tell me about those Daleks. What the hell are they that they could stand up to the Doctor and his people?”

“Cyborgs, from a planet named Skaro,” Tosh replied, still wrestling with the security system. “Once they were a highly advanced race called the Kaleds that fought a thousand-year-war – with nuclear, biological and chemical weapons – against another race called the Thals. Those weapons led to widespread mutations among the Kaleds, making them essentially incapable of surviving without artificial help. In the last days of the war, the crippled Kaled chief scientist experimented on living cells to find the ultimate mutated form of the species, and placed the subjects in those machines that look like enormous pepper shakers. It’s assumed that the design was based on his own life-support chair.”

“And you know all this – how exactly?” Trevor asked, impressed yet suspicious at the same time.

“We at Torchwood Three do a great deal more research on alien species than Headquarters,” Tosh replied, not looking back at him. She wasn’t about to reveal him her – or Jack’s – close connection to the Doctor. "Daleks are arch enemies of the Doctor; we collected as much data on them as we could.”

“If you know so much,” Trevor said, “then you ought to know what would kill these things.”

“That’s a good question,” Tosh gritted her teeth; the security system seemed to have a mind of its own. Whenever she thought she’d outwitted it, it suddenly adapted. No human-made program could do _that_ ; not even the alien ones she had got to see so far. This must have been something completely new Headquarters had either come across or had custom-made, based on _extremely_ advanced alien technology.

Of course, the system hadn’t faced Toshiko Sato before. She got around the safeguards and plunged into the depths of the intelligent programme, dealing the artificial intelligence a crippling blow and took control.

“All right,” she said. “I’m in. I’ll transfer control to my laptop, so that I can open all the doors in our way.”

“Why don’t you open the lab doors by remote now?” Trevor asked in bewilderment. “The people in there may be in danger.”

“Because right now, that security door is the only thing that keeps the Daleks inside,” Tosh answered grimly. “It won’t hold them for long; but if we manage to buy some time, the Doctor _might_ be able to think of something. They’re _his_ enemies, after all, not ours.”

She tried to silence the tiny voice of doubt nagging on her, telling her that she couldn’t be sure of _anything_ where this new Doctor was concerned, since he clearly wasn’t himself.

“Is there nothing _we_ could do?” Trevor asked. Tosh shook her head.

“Even if Headquarters allowed visitors to carry weapons, my gun would be completely useless against the Daleks. Their casings are made of bonded polycarbide and they have a force-field that evaporates most bullets and resists most types of energy weapon, except perhaps their own.”

“They have weapons?” Trevor leaned closer to the security screen to see the aliens in question better. “Where? They look like pepper pots with a sink plunger on one side and a whisk on the other one.”

“That _whisk_ holds an energy weapon, capable of firing a beam with electrical tendencies and of propagating through water; perhaps a form of plasma,” Tosh corrected grimly. “And they can interface with all sorts of technology with their plungers. Their only vulnerable spot is that eye-stalk, but that’s not easy to hit.”

“But if they’re so invincible, what could the Doctor possibly do against them?” Trevor asked. Tosh shrugged.

“I don’t know. But I do know that the Doctor is one of the very few beings that Daleks fear,” she closed her laptop and hung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Go _where_?” Trevor asked, baffled.

“Back to the lab,” Tosh replied. “We need to buy time for the Doctor – and the two idiots with Rajesh won’t be able to do so.”

She started to climb the metal stars that led up to the lab, with a very reluctant Trevor in trail.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
** Her estimate about the complete uselessness of Rose and her little self-proclaimed superhero proved tragically right, as soon as the Daleks began to investigate their captives. 

“Which of you is least important?” one of them asked. 

Rose stared at it as if she’d been spoken to in Mandarin Chinese. Or in Czech. Or in any other language aside from cockney English, without the TARDIS to translate for her. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded. 

Tosh, reaching the lab level at the same moment, rolled her eyes. Really, how stupid _had_ one to be for not understanding such a simple question? Or was the girl tying to buy time before the pepper pots would realize just how expendable she really was? 

“Which of you is least important?” the Dalek repeated the questions. 

Rose assumed a very unconvincingly defiant posture. “No, we don't work like that,” she protested angrily. “None of us.” 

Which, of course, was _not_ an answer a Dalek would even have understood. For them, only two sorts of non-Daleks existed: the sort that would be exterminated on the spot, and the sort that might be useful for a short while and _then_ exterminated, when their usefulness had run out. 

“Designate the least important!“ the same Dalek demanded. 

The stupid blonde girl opened her big mouth to argue with the tin monster some more (and hopefully get killed in the process), but Rajesh stalled her with a raised hand. 

“This is my responsibility,” he stated simply and stepped forth. 

_Oh, Raji!_ Tosh whispered, her heart overcome with love, pride… and sorrow at the same time, as she knew all too well _how_ this would end for him. Jack had told her enough to be able to predict the outcome. 

Rose grabbed Rajesh’s arm, trying to hold him back. “No, don't!” 

Rajesh simply ignored her, because honestly, what else could he have done? Whatever happened in the sphere lab _was_ his responsibility, and even though he was actually the _most_ important person present, he could not, with good conscience, sacrifice these two idiots. So he stepped before the Dalek, dejectedly but with a dignity that would have put any other human – or even a certain wayward Time Lord – to shame. 

“I represent the Torchwood Institute,” he declared calmly. “Anything you need, you come through me. Leave these two alone.” 

“You will kneel,” the Dalek replied, seemingly without any context. 

Rajesh raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “What for? Are you after worship now?” 

“Kneel!” the Dalek screeched. 

Rajesh shrugged and slowly lowered himself onto his knees. The surrounding Daleks directed their eye stalks onto him. Tosh looked around frantically for something she might have used as a weapon, but the only thing she could see within reach was a laser torch. 

“Well, Toshiko,” she muttered to herself, “you’ve got weapons training. Let’s see how good your aim is.” 

The Dalek that seemed to be the chief honcho among the tin cans went on with its self-appointed task. 

“The Daleks need information about current Earth history,” it announced. 

“Yeah, well, I can give you a certain amount of intelligence,” Rajesh shrugged, “but nothing that will compromise Home Land security…” 

“Speech is not necessary,” the thing declared. “We will extract brainwaves.” 

The three Daleks advanced upon Rajesh and positioned their suction arms around his head. Tosh could see Rajesh showing the first signs of fear. 

“Don't...” he begged. “I… I'll tell you everything you need. No. No!” 

_Now or never_ , Tosh thought with grim determination, as the Daleks pressed their suction arms against Rajesh’s head. She aimed carefully and hit the eye stalk of the closest Dalek with a tightly bundled laser beam. The… _thing_ screeched and let go of Rajesh, who quickly clambered out of the way on all fours to hide somewhere, and started spinning and shooting around itself in blind panic. 

“My vision is impaired!” it shrieked. “My vision is impaired; I cannot see!” 

The other Daleks wrapped themselves into shimmering force fields against the weapons of their out-of-control comrade until it finally calmed down enough to listen to the orders of its leader. 

“Initiate emergency shutdown until necessary repairs can be provided,” the chief honcho screeched. 

“I... obey…” the crazed pepper pot replied and went silent at once. The head Dalek now turned to Tosh. 

“You offered resistance,” it said. “You will be exterminated." 

“Go on, then!” Tosh shrugged, throwing the laser torch away, in an angle that would hurl it right to Rajesh’s feet who was wisely keeping a low profile. “Go on and kill me as long as you still have the time!” 

“Explain,” the Dalek demanded. 

“If you weren’t so wrapped up in your own affairs, you’d have realized by now that this planet is being invaded by a second species at this very moment,” Tosh told him. 

“What second species?” the Dalek asked. 

“How should _I know_?” Tosh lied. “I never saw one of them before. But they’re _everywhere_. In every house on every street, armed and ready to defend their conquest.” 

One couldn’t even guess what the creature within the oversized pepper pot might be thinking, but the head Dalek appeared to consider Tosh’s words. Then it rotated towards one of its underlings. “Dalek Thay – investigate outside,” it ordered. 

“I obey,” replied the other one, whose name was apparently Thay – and since when did the homicidal maniacs have _names_ anyway? – simply blowing the security door out of its way as it rolled out to the corridor. 

“Establish visual contact,” the head Dalek ordered. “Lower communications barrier.” 

A projection appeared promptly in the area previously occupied by the sphere, showing Dalek Thay’s point of view. Tosh secretly marvelled about the advanced technology built into those unspectacular Dalek cases, itching for the chance to take a closer look. Her attention was soon turned away from geeky interests, however, and towards the two Cybermen that marched into the focus of the projection, the floor trembling slightly under their heavy footsteps. 

“Identify yourselves,” Dalek Thay demanded. 

“You will identify first,” the two Cybermen replied in unison. Even their voices were so similar that Tosh found it hard to determine whether she was hearing one voice or two. 

“State your identity!” Dalek Thay, whose hearing was obviously selective, demanded again. 

“You will identify first,” the two Cybermen repeated; clearly, the Dalek wasn’t the only one with selective hearing. 

“Identify!” Dalek Thay screeched, its voice, originally considerably deeper than that of their leader, rising by about an octave. 

Samuel aka Mickey Smith, the self-proclaimed superhero, rolled his eyes. 

“It’s like Stephen Hawking meets the Speaking Clock,” he commented. He didn’t seem afraid, which either meant he was very brave or that he was stupid and reckless. Based on what Tosh had seen of his actions in Cardiff made her vote for the latter. 

“... illogical, you will modify,” the Cybermen chorused in those monotonous voices in the meantime. 

“Daleks do not take orders,” Dalek Thay replied indignantly. 

“You have identified as Daleks,” the monotonous voices stated; if Tosh didn’t know that it was impossible, given that the homicidal cyborgs had all their emotions artificially suppressed, she’d have sworn that there was a hint of triumph in that statement.” 

The head Dalek rolled closer to the projection field, examining the transmitted images with its eye-stalk. 

“Outline resembles the inferior species known as 'Cybermen',” it announced dismissively. 

At this very moment, a mobile phone began to beep; it was Rose’s. She hurriedly muted it – really who was stupid enough to go on an undercover mission with their phones on? – but it was already too late. Both Daleks rotated in her direction, their weapons arms raised… but strangely enough, they didn’t fire. 

Seeing that their attention was focused elsewhere, Rajesh saw his moment come. He picked up the laser torch, turned it on to full power, and fired at the conical device that had come out of the sphere. 

“Raji, don’t!” Tosh cried. 

She was fairly sure that a mere laser beam won’t damage something that had crossed the Void unharmed, and she was proven right. Unfortunately, with that action Rajesh had drawn the attention – and the wrath – of the Daleks to himself again. 

“We must protect the Genesis Ark!” one of them screamed. 

“Exterminate!” the chief honcho shrieked. “Exterminate!” 

Both Daleks fired their weapons. Rajesh was hit by two energy rays, his body becoming transparent for a moment, as if it had been made of glass, his skeleton clearly visible through the translucent flesh. Then it darkened again, and he collapsed on the floor, dead. 

Ignoring the chaos around her, Tosh ran to him, fell to her knees next to him and lifted his head to see in his eyes one last time. If she had hoped to catch the last spark of life in them, she was disappointed. He was gone. 

“You stupid, murderous tin cans!” she said bitterly. “You didn’t need to _kill_ him. That laser beam would never harm your precious Ark.” 

“Neither did we need him alive,” the Dalek replied indifferently and turned back to the projection field. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
During the brief, tragic event that robbed Tosh from whatever hopes she might have nurtured for her future, Dalek Thay and the two Cybermen had kept bantering in the corridor. 

“Our species are similar, though your design is inelegant,” the Cybermen said. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mickey commented _sotto voce_. Although it wouldn’t have counted even if he’d spoken out loudly. 

“Daleks have no concept of elegance,” Dalek Thay replied with a vocal shrug for which he lacked the proper body part to actually perform. Clearly, one couldn’t insult the pepper pots by criticizing their appearance. 

“This is obvious,” the Cybermen retorted, making Rose giggle like a silly schoolgirl. “But consider – our technologies are compatible. Cybermen plus Daleks – together, we could upgrade the universe.” 

Were the cyborgs proposing an alliance? The mere thought made Tosh panic in earnest. If these two ganged up against the rest of the universe, the universe wouldn’t stand a chance! 

“You propose an alliance?” Dalek Thay echoed her thoughts, and the Cybermen answered, making her worst fear come true. 

“This is correct." 

“Request denied,” Dalek Thay replied promptly. 

Tosh was shocked. Were the pepper pots so sure about their superiority that they thought they wouldn’t need allies? And more importantly, could they be _right_ about it? These guys beat the Time Lords, after all… what could mankind possibly do against them? 

The Cybermen didn’t take the refusal kindly. They immediately thrust their fists out, ready to shoot. 

“Hostile elements will be deleted,” they announced, shooting at the Dalek without further ado. But the rays simply bounced off its armour. 

“Exterminate!” Dalek Thay screeched. It aimed at both Cybermen, one after the other, and they collapsed onto the floor. 

“Uh-huh,” Mickey commented softly. “I have the feeling that the Cybermen have suddenly become our lesser problem. 

As if answering him, the projection screen came alive again, showing a Cyberman completely identical with all the others. Still, it must have been some sort of leader among them, as it seemed to speak for the rest. 

“Daleks, be warned,” it said. “You have declared war upon the Cybermen.” 

“This is not war,” the black head Dalek replied, completely unfazed by the threat. “This is pest control.” 

“I kinda have to agree with the tin can in _that_ matter,” Mickey muttered. 

“We have five million Cybermen,” the cyber leader announced. “How many are you?” 

“Four,” the head Dalek answered, not elaborating about one of them being shut down and thus useless at the moment. 

“You would destroy the Cybermen with _four_ Daleks?” the Cyber leader demanded; Tosh could see Yvonne biting her nails behind it in the frame in the background. 

“We would destroy the Cybermen with _one_ Dalek,” the black pepper pot replied. “You are superior in only one respect: you are better at dying. Raise communications barrier!” it added, and he screen went static. 

“Wait!” one of the lesser Daleks screeched. “Rewind image by nine rells.” Whether that was a request or a reminder for itself, Tosh couldn’t tell. “Identify grid seven gamma frame.” The image zoomed in on the lanky man with spiky hair in the background. “This male registers as enemy.” 

Rose was grinning like a loon hearing that. _Trust her to ruin the element of surprise!_ Tosh thought angrily. She didn’t know what to expect from this Doctor, but if he wanted to outsmart the Daleks, he needed to be able to move freely. Revealing his identity would have made exactly _that_ impossible. 

The Daleks _had_ noticed Rose’s excitement, of course. 

“The female's heartbeat has increased,” their black chief announced. 

That made Mickey start grinning, too. “Yeah, tell me about it.” 

The black Dalek ignored him, its attention focused on Rose. “Identify him.” 

_No! Don’t!_ Tosh mouthed mutely in Rose’s direction, but the silly git wasn’t even looking at her. 

“All right then,” she said gleefully. “If you really wanna know... that's the Doctor.” 

The Daleks rolled backwards sharply, as if hit by bullets or whatnot. Rose’s grin turned triumphant by that sight. 

“So, that’s how it works, eh?” she taunted. “Five million Cybermen – easy. One Doctor? _Now_ you're scared.” 

Tosh fought the urge to slap her silly and nearly lost. The stupid bint had just destroyed their only chance to get out of here alive, slim though that chance might have been. The Daleks would go and kill the Doctor first, and then finish whatever they were planning to do. With the Doctor out of the equation, there would be no-one left to stop them. 

Unless… unless somebody managed to distract them. 

“She’s lying,” Tosh rose from Rajesh’s side and approached the Daleks calmly. “I don’t know who that man is, but he’s most definitely _not_ the Doctor. I’ve travelled with the Doctor for almost two years; I know exactly what he looks like. He’s much older, has really big ears and barely any hair; _and_ he doesn’t hop around like a clown all the time. That’s not him.” 

Rose and Mickey seemed more shocked about this revelation than the Daleks themselves. Assuming that the Daleks _could_ be shocked by anything, of course. 

“When did _you_ travel with the Doctor?” Rose asked, clearly insulted by the mere idea of competition. 

“After the Slitheen invasion, while you were paying Mummy a visit,” Tosh replied. 

“But-but I was only at home for the weekend!” Rose protested. Tosh rolled her eyes in exasperation. Could the girl _really_ be so stupid? 

“In case you haven’t realized yet, he’s got a _time ship_ ,” she said dryly. “You were at home for a weekend; I travelled with him for two years in the meantime. Don’t be so _linear_!” 

“But he never told me about it!” Rose said petulantly. 

Tosh gave her a disgusted look. “What are you, the navel of the universe? It was none of your business, so why should he have told you? You aren’t his first companion; nor will you be his last one, believe me.” 

Rose’s eyes teared up in indignation, but before she could have an angry answer, which she clearly intended to do, Dalek Thay rolled back into the sphere chamber. 

“Cyber threat irrelevant,” it announced. “Concentrate on the Genesis Ark.” 

The Daleks crowded around the Genesis Ark. The black one pressed its suction arm to the side of the device, as if checking its condition. That seemed to remind Rose of something, because all of a sudden her eyes became wide with fear. Mickey, distracted by his own thoughts, didn’t notice it right away. 

“Why are we being kept alive?” he pondered. “They could have killed us several times by now – but they didn’t. Why?” 

“They might need me,” Rose answered as if in a trance. 

“Sure, because you’re so important that not even the Daleks can establish world domination without your help,” Tosh commented with a derisive snort. 

“What?” Mickey took hold of Rose’s arm and shook her gently. “What is it?” 

But Rose didn’t answer him. She just kept staring at the Daleks like a rabbit caught in the headlights. 

Mickey looked around, making sure that the Daleks weren’t listening, then he pulled something out from under his shirt. It looked like a rectangular tray, only slightly bigger than his own palm, with an oversized yellow button in the middle. He wore it on a string around his neck. 

“Look,” he said. “I could transport out of here, but it only carries one and I'm not leaving you.“ 

Tosh gave the device a sharp look. “You’ve got an interdimensional transponder?” she asked in shocked disbelief. “And you’re planning to _use_ it? Are you bloody _insane_? The fabric of reality is dangerously thin here already, due to the spatial rift above us, and you’re gonna tear even more holes into it?” 

“What do _you_ know about interdimensional rifts?” Mickey asked aggressively. 

“More than you could ever hope to learn!” Tosh snapped at him. “Enough to leave them bloody alone. You irresponsible fool; you’re only making everything worse!” 

“Well, I’m not gonna leave her alone with these monsters,” Mickey returned, looking at Rose, besotted. 

Rose smiled at him. “You'd follow me anywhere. What did I do to you all those years ago?” 

Mickey shrugged and grinned goofily. “Guess I'm just stupid.” 

“No kidding,” Tosh commented dryly. 

Rose shot her a nasty look and squeezed Mickey’s hand. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just being spiteful. You're the bravest man I've ever met." 

_That_ made Mickey grin even more idiotically, as if he’d just won a long-running competition against a superior adversary. Tosh made a mental note to ask Jack (assuming that she’d get out of here alive) if Mickey had _always_ been such an idiot. 

“What about the Doctor?” he teased, and Rose back-pedalled at once. Naturally. 

“Oh, all right,” she allowed. “Bravest human, then.” 

Mickey grinned in satisfaction – and Tosh had just had enough of them. Both of them. 

“No, he is _not_ ,” she said, surprised by the harsh tone of her own voice. “The bravest human you’ve ever met is that scarred corpse over there,” she waved in the vague direction of Rajesh. “An ordinary guy without big guns or extraordinary abilities; a single father of two kids, a man of science and peaceful research, who offered himself up willingly for investigation by these monsters, just to save your worthless lives. So don’t you speak me about being _brave_ when all you can offer – either of you – is reckless stupidity!” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
That shut them up for a while. Mickey even had the decency to look slightly ashamed as he watched the Daleks fuss about their precious Ark. 

“I still can't understand what the Daleks need me for,” he then said. “I'm nothing to them.” 

“You could be,” Rose answered thoughtfully. “Whatever's inside that Ark is waking up and I've seen this happen before. Right after I’d begun travelling with the Doctor; with his previous self, that is. That was the first time I saw a Dalek. It was broken…dying. But I touched it, and the moment I did that... I brought it back to life.” 

“How?” Mickey asked, his mouth literally hanging open. But Tosh understood it already. 

“The Artron energy,” she said. Rose nodded. 

“As the Doctor said,” she continued for Mickey’s sake, keeping her voice low, “when you travel in time in the TARDIS, you soak up all this... um... background radiation.” 

“Chroniton particles, actually,” Tosh corrected. “They are a side product of time travel. Completely harmless for the human body, but every time traveller is saturated with them.” 

Rose nodded. “Yeah. But in the Time War, the Daleks evolved so they could use it as a power supply.” 

Mickey gazed at her in naked admiration. “I love it when you talk technical.” 

Tosh bit back an acerbic comment. Rose clearly had no real clue about advanced technology, despite having travelled with the Doctor for what? Two years? That didn’t keep her from pretending to be oh-so-knowledgeable, of course… or Mickey from lapping up all the rubbish she was spouting. 

“Shut up,” she said to her faithful lapdog; impatient because she had been interrupted while trying to appear important. “The point is: if the Daleks have got something inside that thing that needs waking up...” 

“They need you,” Mickey finished for her in full worshipping mode. 

“Actually,” Tosh interrupted the admiration feast before it would give her diabetes, “ _you_ have travelled in time, too; and so have I. Technically, either one of us would do.” 

_That_ was apparently new for Rose, as she stopped spewing half-digested technobabble for the time being. Mickey shook his head in befuddled amazement. 

“But why would they build something they can't open themselves?” he asked. 

“The technology is stolen,” the black Dalek suddenly interjected, and Tosh’s heart sank realizing that the pepper pots had probably heard every single word from their conversation; which was a bad thing. Really bad. “The Ark is not of Dalek design.” 

“Then who built it?” Rose asked. 

“The Time Lords,” the Dalek told her matter-of-factly. “This is all that survives of their homeworld. “ 

_Gallifrey_? The Genesis Ark came from _Gallifrey_? But how in seven hells had it escaped from the Time Lock, survived the Time War unharmed? All of a sudden, Tosh’s initial fear regarding the artefact multiplied by the factor of, oh, about ten thousand. If this was truly Time Lord technology, only the Doctor could tell what might be hidden inside – or perhaps not even he. He’d been something of a renegade, after all. If the Ark was some sort of doomsday weapon commissioned by the High Council, its existence and true purpose might have remained a secret, even among their own people. 

Now if she could only figure out _what_ it was… and alert the Doctor somehow… 

“What's inside?” Rose blurted out, staring at the Ark and the surrounding Daleks with fearful apprehension, while Tosh was still looking for the right approach to get some useful intel out of the tin cans. 

“The future,” the head Dalek replied. 

Somehow that answer didn’t reassure Tosh at all. On the contrary: since the Daleks had obviously high hopes about the Ark, it could only mean complete disaster for everyone else. 

At that very moment, the Daleks backed away from the Genesis Ark. 

“Final stage of awakening,” one of them announced. 

The black Dalek rotated, facing Rose eye-to eye… well, eye to eye-stalk, as the case happened to be. “Your handprint will open the Ark,” it screeched. 

“Well, tough, 'cos I'm not doing it,” Rose replied flippantly. 

“Obey, or the male will die,” the black Dalek screeched, aiming at Mickey. 

That broke Rose’s heroic resistance in a matter of nanoseconds. She started walking towards the Ark immediately. 

“Rose, don't!” Mickey cried out; Tosh’s opinion of him went up several notches. It seemed that he no longer was the coward Jack had described him. 

Rose looked at him teary-eyed. “I can’t let them…” 

“Oh, yes, you can,” Tosh said harshly, picking up the laser torch from where it had fallen off Rajesh’s hand, and turned it on again. It hummed threateningly. “Take another step towards that thing and I’ll blow your stupid head to pieces. I won’t have Rajesh died for nothing,” she gave Mickey a sideway glance. “I’m sorry, Mickey, but I can’t allow her to do this. Whatever’s inside, if we let it out, it will be the end of us all – and of the rest of Earth.” 

Mickey nodded. “I know. Do what you have to do.” 

“Place your hand upon the casket,” the black Dalek screamed to Rose, who was still hesitating. 

“Don’t even _think_ about it,” Tosh warned. “And never believe that I’d have any claims killing you.” 

“Who the hell are you to give me orders?” Rose snapped. 

“I’m Torchwood,” Tosh replied coldly. “Torchwood Cardiff, to be more accurate. It’s my job to defend the Earth from alien threats; _and_ from irresponsible humans who would put the whole planet at risk, just to save their buddies. So stop where you are.” 

“Why?” Rose asked violently. “They’re gonna kill us anyway, so what the hell?” 

“My point exactly,” Tosh said. “They _are_ gonna kill us, no matter what. But if you help them _before_ they kill you, the extinction of mankind would be your fault and yours alone.” 

“Place your hand upon the casket,” the black Dalek repeated like some kind of broken record. Rose still seemed uncertain, her eyes flicking from Tosh, aiming at her, to the Dalek, aiming at Mickey. 

“Play for time!” Tosh said in a low voice, praying that the girl would understand; the Daleks didn’t care anyway. “Buy time for _him_ to do something.” 

“All right!” Rose whirled around to face the head Dalek. “So, if you… ummm… escaped the Time War, don’t you wanna know what happened? What _really_ happened?” 

“Place your hand…” the Dalek began again, but Rose interrupted it. 

“What happened to the Emperor?” 

“The Emperor survived,” the Dalek answered promptly. 

“Yeah… ‘til he met _me_!” Rose countered triumphantly. “'Cos if these are gonna be my last words, then you're gonna listen. I met the Emperor. And I took the Time Vortex and I pulled it into his head and turned him into dust. Do you get _that_? The god of all Daleks... and _I destroyed him_!” She gave the Dalek a gloating smile, and laughed. 

Tosh was shocked upon hearing _that_. Absolutely shocked. What little she could comprehend about Time Lord technology – and it wasn’t much, really, as it was light years beyond her understanding, regardless of how brilliant she might be compared with other people of the twenty-first century – all told her that human flesh simply wasn’t meant to survive an encounter with raw temporal energy. 

“How on Earth did you do _that_?” she asked. Rose shrugged. 

“I just opened the heart of the TARDIS,” she answered nonchalantly. 

“That cannot be,” Tosh shook her head. “The Vortex energy would have burned you to ashes. The human body is not suited to deal with _that_.” 

“Yeah, well, the Doctor absorbed the Vortex energy,” Rose said with a shrug. “I was terribly sorry to see him go, but then he came back, and I kinda like the new one even better. He’s younger, better-looking and more fun to be with.” 

For a moment Tosh was completely thunderstruck. The thought that his old friend had to die for this selfish, immature girl to survive filled her with overwhelming grief. 

“What about Jack Harkness?” she asked. “That was you, too, wasn’t it? You did something to him, and he woke up on that abandoned game station, surrounded by corpses and Dalek dust. _What_ have you done to him?” 

Her harsh tone shook Rose out of gloating mode, realizing perhaps for the first time that something might have been wrong with her past actions. 

“I couldn’t let him die!” she protested. Tosh closed her eyes for a moment to force her anger back to manageable levels. 

“You stupid, selfish cow,” she said with more self-discipline she had ever thought she could bring up. “He _was_ already dead – and you dragged him back to life. Do you know what you’ve done?” 

“I saved him!” Rose said indignantly. 

“No,” Tosh replied coldly. “You _damned_ him to go on forever while everyone else he meets will die. You’ve made him a permanent rock in the never-stopping flood of time. I cannot imagine a fate more cruel than being doomed to eternal loneliness.” 

“Girls,” Mickey interrupted them, “I love a good chick fight like the next bloke, but I think we have a bigger problem right now than Captain Cheesecake,” he waved in the direction of the black Dalek that was approaching Rose threateningly. 

“You will be _exterminated_!” the thing screeched furiously. 

For a moment, Tosh _almost_ hoped the Dalek would do just that, so mad was she about what she’d just learned. In the next moment, though, she was deeply ashamed for having wished something like that upon a fellow human being. Even if said fellow human being was an annoying git. 

“Oh now, hold on,” a voice intervened from the doorway,” wait a minute.” 

And with that, the Doctor sauntered into the room, wearing utterly ridiculous 3D specs. Rose, of course, started grinning like a loon at the sight of her personal _deus ex machina_ – and so did Mickey. 

The Daleks, on the other hand, rolled back, as agitated as a man-sized pepper pot could be. 

“Alert, alert” the black Dalek screeched. “It _is_ the Doctor.” 

“Sensors report he is unarmed,” Dalek Thay said – if it _was_ Dalek Thay, of course. The things all looked the same, save for the chief honcho, which was black. 

“That's me,” the Doctor said agreeably. “Always.” 

The black Dalek stared at him with a dismissive eye-stalk. “Then you are powerless.” 

“Not me,” the Doctor took off his stupid specs with a flourish. “Never,” then he ignored the Dalek and turned to Rose with the expression of a lovesick puppy. “How are you?” 

Rose grinned at him in satisfaction. “Oh, same old, you know.” 

Tosh felt the violent urge to get sick right there, right then. Five million Cybermen were subjugating the planet right now, killing people and turning them into their copies, the Daleks were about to open the Ark and whatever was hidden inside (and she could swear that whatever it was, it _wasn’t_ good), and these two were performing their little mating dance? Had the Doctor gotten all common sense sucked out of him during his most recent regeneration and replaced by an overdose of teenage hormones? 

“Good!” he cried out with a manic gleam in his eye. “And Mickity-McMickey!” He bashed fists with Rose’s self-declared little superhero. “Nice to see ya!” 

“And you, boss,” Mickey replied. 

It seemed that even the Daleks found the silly little scene annoying. 

“Social interaction will cease!” one of them screamed. 

Tosh had never thought that one day she would whole-heartedly agree with a _Dalek_ , of all possible people… creatures… things… whatever. But she did. This was getting _way_ beyond good taste… or responsible behaviour. A whole planet was about to _die_ , was she the only one to realize _that_? 

Listening with one ear to the Doctor taunting the Daleks about the Time War and their mutual role in it – or, as the case of _these_ Daleks appeared to be, the complete _lack_ of it – she crept back to the side door. She hated to leave Rajesh behind, even dead, but getting herself killed would not help him – _or_ his recently orphaned children. She needed to get to Trevor out of that rat trap below the sphere chamber, and she needed to find a way to get them both to someplace safe. 

_After_ that, she might find a moment to think about what could be done for the other people trapped in Torchwood Tower. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Trevor said when she climbed down to the little security chamber. “We’re trapped here – there’s no way out, unless through the sphere chamber.” 

“I know,” Tosh replied tiredly. “That’s exactly where we’re going… and then down to the factory floor.” 

“Why?” Trevor asked with a frown. “What is down there – save for an army of Cybermen?” 

“The TARDIS,” Tosh answered simply. “The only safe place on the entire planet right now. Not even the Cybermen or the Daleks would be able to break into it by force.” 

“And neither would we,” Trevor reminded her. “Our best technicians have tried to open that box since Yvonne confiscated it, but it wouldn’t give.” 

“Not to _you_ , perhaps,” Tosh said. “I’ve got my own ways, though. Now, as soon as we reach the sphere chamber, you must stay really close to me. And I mean _really_ close. Full body contact would be the best. I don’t know how wide the perception field’s range is.” 

“The _what_?” Trevor asked in confusion. Tosh waved off any further questions. 

“Not now. Just follow me; and stay _close_.” 

She had only discovered a short time ago that the TARDIS key was capable of generating a short-range perception filter. She hadn’t had the chance to check its range yet. So it was basically now or never – as much as she hated to rely on untested technology, she didn’t really have any other choice. 

The way down to the factory floor was nerve-wrecking. In order to stay within the supposed range of the perception filter, they had to press tightly together; which again didn’t make moving along any easier. Sneaking out in clear sight of the Daleks was almost more than Tosh could deal with, and she had to stomp down on her panic with all her might. 

She could feel Trevor trembling behind her and knew that the young man, too, could lose it in any moment – and then they would be both dead within seconds. She realized that she didn’t want to die… not yet, not here, not like this. Not like poor Rajesh had died. 

Despite her expectations, Trevor did manage to hold himself together. Even as they had to pass various troops of Cybermen marching down the corridors, herding frightened people towards a curtained area where new offices had supposedly been built. Tosh and Trevor followed the shock troops from Hell – their only way to the factory floor led directly by that area – and soon it became clear that there was something decidedly more sinister going on behind those curtains than simple construction work. 

The place was full of screaming and the sound of drills and sparks flying. Vague shapes were moving behind the curtains, and the air was heavy with the stench of burnt flesh and hot metal. The whole thing reminded Tosh of a slaughterhouse, and she looked around her involuntarily, looking for splatters of blood – strangely enough, there were none. Perhaps the hot metal was being used to cauterize whatever wounds had been inflicted on the people… 

The mere thought of it made her sick. 

“What… what are those _things_ doing to our people?” Trevor asked when they had finally got out of earshot in an empty corridor. 

“I think…” Tosh’s voice broke and she needed to swallow _really_ hard to get her nausea under control. “I think they remove the brain and put it in a suit of armour. That’s what these things are: murdered people, whose brains serve as the artificial body’s central processor unit.” 

“Oh God…” Trevor looked as if he’d become sick any moment. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Tosh grabbed him and shook him violently. “You won’t throw up, and you won’t panic, not _now_! You’ll pull yourself together, dammit, and stay close, and we’ll go down to the factory floor and into the TARDIS, and we’ll get out of here, _is that understood_?” 

She knew she was being too harsh to the young man – the personnel at Headquarters led a spoiled life compared with that of Torchwood Three, with the marked exception of the field agents – but she couldn’t mollycoddle him right now. She needed him with all his wits about him. 

Trevor nodded, albeit a bit shakily, and followed her out into the next side corridor – the one that would lead directly to the factory floor. They hurried along it, as well as they could while holding onto each other, reached the other end without any further encounters, and stepped out into the large room full of random pieces of alien technology. 

The room seemed very much like it had when Tosh had crossed it in that very morning. The Jathar Sunglider was still hanging from the ceiling, the Magna-clamps were still lying in their box, and in a shadowy corner there was the TARDIS, still standing on the platform on which it had been supposed to be transported to the safe storage area. Before the Cybermen would have invaded. 

“There she is,” Tosh breathed in relief, heart hammering in excitement upon the sight of her old friend. “Once we’ve reached her, we’ll be safe.” 

Trevor looked at the battered, old-fashioned police box with a certain amount of bewilderment. “If you say so… but _how_ are we supposed to reach it? The entire floor is swarming with these Cyber things… I don’t wanna end up as one of them.” 

“Neither do I,” Tosh replied. “We have to try, though. It’s the only way out here. Just stay close… and move carefully. The perception filter won’t do us any good if they discover us by touch.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
They _almost_ managed to do it, meandering towards the TARDIS in tandem, among random groups of Cybermen, like some weird, two-headed, four-legged creature out of the old myths. But at a sharp turn to the right Trevor slipped on a smear of oil, lost his balance and fell, shattering their camouflage. Now that the Cybermen knew _what_ to look for, they could see through the perception filter, and spotted Tosh, too. 

“Stop!” one of them said and clearly transmitted some message only its own kind could perceive, because Tosh and Trevor were immediately surrounded by four of the things at once. “Personnel on this floor have been selected to be upgraded.” 

“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,” Tosh answered with a calmness that came from the knowledge that everything was lost already. “I’m quite content with the way I’m now, thank you very much.” 

“Illogical,” the Cyberman said. “We’ll make you better. You’ll become like us.” 

Tosh pretended to give _that_ some thought. Then she shook her head. 

“No, thanks,” she said. “I prefer to remain Toshiko Sato to becoming Cyberman Number Five Million and Ten… or whatever.” 

“Toshiko Sato?” the Cyberman repeated, and Tosh had the eerie feeling as if she could hear something familiar through the mechanical tone of its voice. “You should not be here, Toshiko Sato,” and it pointed its gun at the others. “You will let her go.” 

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the other Cybermen demanded. 

“You will let her _go_!” the first one repeated – and then it pulled the trigger, destroying the other Cybermen with a bright ray of white light. 

Typically for the departmentalised acting of the cyber race, the rest on the floor hadn’t even noticed what happened. 

“Toshiko Sato,” the first Cyberman turned back to her. “You should go to someplace safe, Toshiko Sato.” 

Now Tosh could definitely hear the discernable human voice through the cyber-tones. 

“ _Yvonne_?” she asked tentatively. “Is that _you_ in there… within this thing? Yvonne?” 

The Cyberman didn’t answer her directly. 

“Go home, Toshiko Sato,” it said. “Be safe. I must do my duty for Queen and Country.” 

And with that, it marched away to its unknown destination. Trevor stared after it in wide-eyed shock. 

“That… that _was_ Yvonne, wasn’t it?” he asked. “But how…?” 

“I don’t know,” Tosh admitted. “But she’s bought us some time. Let’s not waste it, shall we? Come!” 

She grabbed Trevor’s hand and dragged him after her, towards the TARDIS that was now almost within their reach. 


	5. Showdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the Battle of Canary Wharf from Tosh's POV Basically canon events, with the one or other twist.Slightly AU, so certain events will be a tad different. Some lines of dialogue are borrowed from the actual episodes, though.

**CHAPTER FOUR – SHOWDOWN**

They reached the modest-looking blue box before the other Cybermen on the factory floor would have spotted them. Tosh hurriedly pulled out the TARDIS key, took it out of its casing and was relieved to see that it still fit. She opened the door, ushered Trevor in and closed it after them again.

Golden light flooded the console room of the TARDIS as soon as the door closed, and Trevor looked around in amazement, forgetting even the deathly peril outside. He was an engineer, after all.

“Awesome!” he breathed, taking in the sight not many people had got to see in the last five hundred or so years. “It’s… it’s bigger in the inside, isn’t it? But how is that possible?”

“Transdimensional engineering,” Tosh replied. “Not something any of us would understand for another three millennia or so. That’s Time Lord technology for you.”

“And how comes that you’d have a key to the Doctor’s ship?” Trevor asked, suddenly a little suspicious. He had apparently missed the bit of argument when Tosh had told Rose about her having travelled with the Doctor.

“Don’t ask me, and I won’t lie to you,” Tosh answered absent-mindedly. She concentrated, and after a moment she could hear in the back of her head the wordless humming of the TARDIS again. She only now realized how much she had missed this. Based on the joyous, welcoming sound of the hum, the TARDIS had missed her, too. 

In any case, the Doctor’s amazing time ship granted her immediate access to the board systems – well, most of them. She was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be able to start the TARDIS, not without the Doctor on board, but that wasn’t her intention anyway. What she needed was access to the security cameras within Torchwood Tower, to see what was going on, so that she would be able to decide if there was a ways for her to interfere – and if yes, then _how_.

“Now, if I remember correctly, this here should activate the monitoring system,” she muttered, throwing a switch on the central console; a large virtual screen popped up and came alive promptly. “Excellent. Now, I should be able to hack into the security system and follow the events in the Rift chamber _and_ the sphere chamber in split screen mode...”

The TARDIS still seemed to be attuned to her, because the required images appeared on the virtual screen without delay. The Rift chamber appeared currently empty, but in the sphere chamber the Doctor was still sparring verbally with the Daleks. Who, apparently, belonged to some secret Dalek order that the Doctor called the Cult of Skaro and had clearly thought to be just a legend until now.

An exclusive circle, he was explaining to Rose, established to study the ways of the enemy, They were encouraged to use their imagination (something your average Dalek clearly wasn’t allowed to do) and even had names. All that in order to find new ways of killing.

Which still didn’t explain the Genesis Ark and its potential function, though.

Mickey seemed to agree with Tosh in that point because he was gesturing to the Ark in confusion.

“But that thing, they said it was yours,” he said to the Doctor. “I mean, Time Lords. They built it. What does it do?”

The Doctor glanced at it… and shrugged. “I don't know. Never seen it before.”

“But… but it's... Time Lord!” Rose protested stupidly. The fact that her hero didn’t know _everything_ seemed to frighten her. Tosh suppressed a sigh. Hero worship was such an infantile thing; but again, the girl _was_ very young… and not very bright.

The Doctor shrugged again. “Both sides had secrets,” he turned to the Daleks. “What is it? What have you done?” 

“Time Lord science will restore Dalek supremacy,” the black Dalek announced.

“What does that mean?” Trevor asked. “ _What_ sort of Time Lord science is that thing speaking about?“

“I have no idea,” Tosh admitted. “The only piece of Time Lord technology I know is where we’re right now; this ship. The Ark might be a weapon, though – the Doctor’s people and the Daleks once fought a brutal war that basically destroyed both races. The Doctor told me that he was the last of his kind; and these tin cans out there are obviously the last four Daleks in existence.”

“But why do they need a time traveller to open that thing?” Trevor asked in confusion. “Why don’t they just tear it to pieces?”

“Perhaps they can’t,” Tosh was thinking furiously. “Time Lord technology is extremely redundant. Or perhaps they’re afraid to damage what’s inside beyond repair.

“Yeah, but _what_ is inside?” Trevor asked.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Tosh replied. “Not if it’s so important for the Daleks.”

“But why would the Time Lords build something everyone _else_ could open with a simple touch?” Trevor insisted. “And if it’s so, why don’t the Daleks simply touch it? _They_ have travelled through time, too, haven’t they?”

“Because they _can’t_ touch!” Tosh said, realizing the beautiful simplicity of the concept. “The Time Lords built this piece of technology using the _only_ thing the Daleks can’t do: touch. The actual creatures are sealed inside that impenetrable casing from birth to death… never feeling anything… trapped inside, forever.”

“Ugh,” Trevor shuddered. “That explains their voice.”

“Yeah,” Tosh whispered, remembering her time wasted away in the UNIT prison in near-complete isolation and how it had been slowly turning her mad. “No wonder they scream all the time.”

She had screamed, too, in the loneliness of her cell, until her throat had gone raw and she had realized that no-one would answer her. Ever.

Trevor nodded in agreement, and for a few moments they watched the Doctor bantering with the Daleks in silence.

“Will the Doctor open the Ark?” Trevor then asked.

Tosh first reaction was to answer with a clear _No_! – but then she remembered that Rose was still in the dratted sphere chamber. Considering how far this new Doctor was gone in his crush on her, who could tell what he’d be ready to do, just to save her?

“I hope not,” she said after some hesitation.

Fortunately for the entire planet, the Doctor didn’t seem completely gone beyond reason just yet. He nonchalantly refused to open the Ark – which seemed to enrage the Daleks very much. If they weren’t oversized, homicidal pepper pots, equipped with deadly weapons capable of eradicating whole races, one would have thought that they got a hissy fit.

“You have no way of resisting,” the chief honcho screeched in the manner of a petulant toddler that had been refused a new toy.

The Doctor pretended to consider _that_. “Well... you got me there. Although... there is always _this_ ,” and he produced a slim tool that looked like a large fever thermometer out of his pocket. One end of the… the _thing_ appeared to glow faintly.

“A sonic probe?” Trevor guessed in bewilderment.

“Actually, it’s a sonic screwdriver,” Tosh corrected. “It doesn’t look much, I’ll give you that, but it’s a versatile tool with different uses.”

“It doesn’t look very useful,” Trevor scowled, and – as if echoing his low opinion about the little thing, the black Dalek declared contemptuously:

“It is harmless.”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor answered, suddenly very serious, and for the first time, Tosh could discover reminiscences of his old self; of the man – the _Time Lord_ – that she had come to trust unconditionally in the years she had spent travelling in his company.

“Harmless is just the word,” the Doctor continued. “That's why I like it. Doesn't kill, doesn't wound, doesn't maim. But I'll tell you what it _does_ do – it is very good at opening doors. “

He activated the screwdriver, and immediately the doors on the corridor that had sealed the entire section off – and had somehow been closed after Tosh and Trevor’s escape – exploded inwards. A group of people, dressed in black jumpsuits and wearing helmets, carrying futuristic-looking guns marched in, followed by shock troops of battle-ready Cybermen.

The black-clad people jumped to the side to allow the Cybermen a grand entrée, and the Cybermen leapt into action, firing their guns at the Daleks.

“Delete! Delete!” they chorused monotonously. “Delete! Delete!”

“I thought Daleks were immune to all weapons, except perhaps their own,” Trevor looked at Tosh. “ _That_ was what you said, wasn’t it?”

Tosh nodded. “Someone must have helped these guys modifying their weapons, so that it would work on polycarbide.”

“The Doctor?” Trevor guessed.

“No-one else would have the know-how,” Tosh said. “Let’s just hope that it will really work.”

“Alert!” one of the Daleks screamed. “Casing impact, casing impact!”

“It _does_ seem to work,” Trevor commented, watching the confused pepper pots with deep satisfaction. “That Doctor of yours does know his stuff.”

“He does have his moments,” Tosh answered, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what modifications would a weapon – _any_ weapon – need to have an impact on polycarbide… the toughest alloy in the known universe, according to Jack. “But he’s not _my_ doctor. Not this one.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said dryly as the Doctor and Rose flung themselves to the ground, trying to avoid getting shot. “This one seems to be a one-girl sort of bloke. Well, there’s no use debating different tastes, I guess.”

Tosh frowned for a moment, wondering how to interpret that last comment, but then the events on the screen distracted her again.

“Rose, get out!” the Doctor was yelling, as he rolled out of the firing line.

Miraculously, the girl chose to listen for a change and made towards the door – but stumbled before she could have reached the end of the short corridor. Terrific. One of the black-clad guys helped her to her feet and dragged her out of harm’s way. The Doctor followed them.

“Daleks will be deleted,” the Cybermen declared in unison; Mickey picked up a gun and started firing at everything that wasn’t human without distinction. “Delete! Delete!”

At least Mickey’s gun seemed to have an effort on the _Cybermen_ – it simply blew their heads off, rendering the machine parts useless without the captured human brain to steer them.

“Fire power insufficient! Fire power insufficient!” the black Dalek screeched.

The Doctor had managed to reach Rose and her rescuer who were still standing in the destroyed inner doorway, presenting an excellent target for either side.

“Mickey, come on!” Rose yelled to her ex-boyfriend who was still in the midst of the havoc – and clearly enjoying it.

“Adapt to weaponry!” one of the other Daleks screeched.

“Fire power restored!” the black Dalek announced. “Cybermen primary target.”

It fired _once_ at a Cyberman, immediately destroying it. The black-clad men, too, had managed to reach the door in the meantime, one of them – a young bloke with curly blond hair – dragging Mickey with him. They clearly knew each other from before.

Unfortunately, Mickey lost his footing and accidentally placed his hand upon the Genesis Ark, leaving a red hot mark there. He winced in pain as he looked at his palm – it seemed to have burn marks, too – then he realized that he didn’t have time to waste and dashed down the short corridor, heading for the security door. They managed to slip through the door before it closed, sealing both the Daleks and the Cybermen inside. 

Dealing with first things first, the Daleks finished off the rest of the Cybermen in the sphere chamber and rotated in satisfaction.

“Cybermen have been exterminated,” the chief honcho announced with the absurd pride of a three-year-old that had just managed to make a dump. “Daleks are supreme.”

“The Genesis Ark is primed,” another one said.

“What does it mean _primed_?” Trevor asked.

Tosh was staring at the part of the virtual screen that was transmitting from the sphere chamber. The Genesis Ark was showing long, vertical gaps upon its gleaming surface. Steam was pouring from the gaps, as if something that had been frozen for a very long time would be suddenly – and rapidly – thawed out.

“I think they mean it’s opening,” she said tonelessly. “Mickey’s activated it by his touch. Whatever is inside, it’s waking up. All our efforts were in vain.”

Rajesh had died for nothing. That was the worst part of it. And they would be dead, too, soon – together with the rest of the planet.

“The Ark needs area of thirteen square miles,” the black Dalek screeched. “Move!”

The Ark started to glide smoothly across the floor.

Trevor looked at Tosh anxiously. “I assume that’s no good.”

“No,” Tosh replied. “I think it’s not god at all.”

“Genesis Ark mobile!” another Dalek reported to their leader.

“Where is the Doctor?” Trevor asked.

Tosh quickly switched to additional cameras with a single mental order; falling back to work with the TARDIS proved amazingly easy. 

“I think he’s coming here,” she said. "They _all_ do. This is going to be ugly.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
And indeed, only minutes later the Daleks burst through the doors of the factory floor, where rows upon rows of Cybermen were waiting for them, already in battle formation. 

“Exterminate!” the black Dalek screamed.

“Delete!” the Cybermen countered in unison.

They started firing at each other. However, the Cybermen's rays kept bouncing off the Daleks' armour, while the Daleks’ exterminator beams proved a lot more effective, blowing off the heads of the Cybermen with ease.

“They weren’t kidding when they said they could beat the Cybermen with _one_ Dalek,” Trevor commented, watching the scene in morbid fascination.

Tosh nodded. “Yeah; they’re tough little bastards.”

Cries of 'delete!' and 'exterminate!' filled the air, along with the shouts of the soldiers who had come in running, surrounded the room and were shooting at both parties. Their particle guns, salvaged from alien technology, had moderate efforts one the Cybermen – assuming they managed to hit the control plate embedded in the chest of the cyber suits – but none on the Daleks surrounding the Ark protectively. 

“Emergency!” one of the Cybermen, who must have been in charge of the place, although it looked exactly the same as all the others, stepped to the communications console. “All units will converge on the Torchwood Tower. Repeat – all units, return to Torchwood Tower!”

Tosh called up the picture of the external security cameras and saw with increasing dread as literal armies of completely identical Cybermen marched out into the roads from every house and started in the direction of Canary Wharf.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “They’ll turn this place in a battlefield... and we can’t do a thing to prevent it!”

“Not unless we start thinking creatively,” an almost obscenely cheerful voice replied her, and the Doctor popped into the TARDIS. “Care to tell me what are you doing in my…” he trailed off in the middle of the sentence, and his eyes lit up. “Toshiko? Toshiko Sato?”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“In the flesh,” Tosh couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to know that he still remembered her. “But no much longer, unless you have an ace up your sleeve.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” the Doctor was still staring at her with a broad grin on his face. “What are you doing here, of all places? I thought you were still in Cardiff.”

“I was visiting someone,” Tosh declared that this wasn’t the moment to tell the Doctor that she was _working_ for Torchwood – the very institution dedicated to capture him.

Besides, she had the integrity of the timeline to consider. This Doctor presumably didn’t know a thing of Jack’s fate and his role within Torchwood. At least she couldn’t be sure, and she chose to err on the safe side.

“This was the safest place I could think of when all Hell broke loose,” she added as an explanation.

“Sensible thinking,” the Doctor ignored Trevor’s presence for the time being, having more pressing concerns at the moment. “It’s good to have you here; you can help me think. You’ve always been very good at this stuff,” he looked at the virtual screen. “I see you’ve already hacked the security system. Smart girl. Now, let’s see what the Daleks are up to… aside from massacring the Cybermen, that is, for which I actually can’t blame them.”

He put on his 3D specks with a flourishing gesture and leaned closer to the screen.

“Override roof mechanism,” the black Dalek instructed its fellow pepper pots. As the roof began to open slowly, it added. “El-ev-ate.”

“What're they doing?” Trevor asked. “Why'd they need to get outside?”

“I don’t know,” Tosh looked at the Doctor. “Do _you_?”

Unfortunately, the Doctor seemed every bit as baffled as the two of them.

“Time Lord science,” he repeated, taking his specs off again. “ _What_ Time Lord science?”

In the meantime, the black Dalek elevated through the ceiling into the open air with the Ark, floating above Torchwood Tower like an ominous raven.

“The Genesis Ark will open,” it announced, the special Torchwood-issue listening devices placed on the roof picking up its voice.

The Doctor, Tosh and Trevor watched in stunned silence as the Ark opened slowly – to reveal a Dalek. Then it began to spin, shooting out another Dalek by every full spin. The things hovered in the air, gleaming like dragonflies, slowly filling the sky above Canary Wharf.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
As the Genesis Ark kept spinning, Daleks kept shooting out of it, more and more of them. The Doctor stared at the virtual screen in horror… and so did the others.

“Time Lord science,” Tosh finally said. “Transdimensional engineering. The Ark is bigger on the inside… just like the TARDIS.”

“You mean it was the Time Lords who put those Daleks in there?” Trevor frowned. “What for?” 

“It's a prison ship,” the Doctor realized in shock.

“A prison ship,” Tosh repeated slowly. “From the time of the war between the Time Lords and the Daleks, right?” The Doctor nodded. “How many Daleks can be in there?”

“Hard to tell,” the Doctor’s face revealed nothing beyond the shock. “Could be millions.”

“Then we ought to do something, and quickly,” Tosh said. “Because the Daleks are spreading out all over London... and that’s still just the beginning.”

The virtual screen kept showing external pictures: Cybermen marching down the streets, then stopping as one and firing their weapons up into the air at the Daleks – which had absolutely no effect on the Daleks.

“Exterminate all life forms below!” the black Dalek screeched. “Ex-ter-min-ate!”

The hovering Daleks rotated in the air and fired at the terrified people running below them.

“Doctor!” Tosh said urgently. “We must _do_ something!”

“What can we _possibly_ do?” Trevor scowled. “We haven’t got anything that could destroy these… these _things_ , do we?”

“No,” the Doctor admitted, “but I’m not such a big fan of destroying anyway. I’d prefer sending them back to where they came from.”

“To some parallel dimension?” Tosh asked with a frown. “That would mean sacrificing the people in a different universe just to save ourselves – do we have the right to do so?”

“No, not to a parallel dimension,” the Doctor said with a manic gleam in his eye. “We’re gonna send them back to the Void itself. The equipment is right there, in the rift chamber – thank you, Torchwood! We’ll just slam it down and close off both universes,” he looked at Trevor, acknowledging the stranger’s presence on board of his ship for the first time. “Do you know how to reboot the systems?”

“Of course,” Trevor said. “But I can’t do it remotely. We’ll have to go back to the rift chamber. Only the computers there can initiate a ghost shift – I mean, open the rift again.”

“Then that’s where we’re gonna go!” the Doctor said, heading towards the door already.

“Wait a minute,” Trevor stopped him. “How would opening the rift help us get rid of the Daleks? Or the Cybermen? Or both?”

“They’re part of the problem,” the Doctor explained. “And _that_ makes them part of the solution. Oh yes!” He seemed to have acquired a new lease of life, positively brimming with energy and excitement.

“The Artron energy,” Tosh said, starting to understand the plan. “The Daleks lived inside the Void. They're bristling with it. The Cybermen, too, travelled through the Void to get here – all of them…”

“ _Exactement_!” the Doctor beamed at her proudly. “I’ll just open the Void – and all the Void stuff gets sucked back inside.”

“Erm… you’re losing me here, man,” Trevor said. “What _is_ the Void?”

The Doctor prepared to launch into a lengthy – and presumably erratic – explanation, but Tosh stopped him by laying a hand upon his forearm.

“We don’t have time for this, Doctor. Every second we waste means the death of another man, woman and child. I’ll explain him later – assuming there _will_ be a ‘later’. Right now, we have to go!”

“Not _you_ ,” the Doctor said. “You’ve travelled to a parallel dimension with me once; you’re contaminated, too. You’d be sucked in.”

“And so would you,” Tosh pointed out.

The Doctor shook his head. “Don’t worry about me; I’ve got an idea.” He left the TARDIS and picked up the Magna clamps from their box. “That’s why I’ll take these with me. I’ll just send everyone else over to the parallel Earth where they belong – and then hold on tight. Piece of cake; I’ve been doing that all my life. Allonz-y, my friend,” he said to Trevor. “I’ll need your access code for the computers.”

“What about her?” Trevor nodded towards Tosh.

“The TARDIS has her own time bubble,” the Doctor said, dashing for the door already. “She’ll be safe as long as she stays inside.”

He ran off towards the lift, and Trevor did his best to catch up with him.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Tosh collapsed in a seat at the console and tied to collect her thoughts. If the Doctor’s plan worked, the interdimensional breach above Torchwood Tower would close itself, since it, too, was soaked in Artron energy. Daleks and Cybermen would be gone, and those who survived would be safe.

If not – she realized that she needed to warn Jack. If the Doctor’s plan failed, Torchwood Three would have a long and bloody guerrilla war to fight. That was their job, after all. They had just never expected to do it on the really grand scale.

She didn’t waste her time trying to reach Jack on his mobile phone. Headquarters had the policy of jamming _all_ mobile networks, for security reasons. But she could boast the signal of _her_ phone through the communications system of the TARDIS, and reach the high security landline in Jack’s office. She only hoped that he’d _be_ in his office, instead of out Weevil hunting… or brooding on some rooftop as it was his wont.

She worked quickly and carefully, creating the connection that shouldn’t be able to work – not without the help of superior Time Lord technology, that is – and then waited anxiously. To her relief, Jack picked up the receiver after the third ring.

“Harkness,” he said in that clipped tone, reserved for dealing with outside authorities. It was usually UNIT or the Prime Minister who called him on this line.

“Jack, this is me, Tosh. Listen to me, you must put the Hub on lockdown, right away!” she blurted out with the same breath.

To Jack’s credit, he took the news with unshakable calm.

“Slow down, Tosh. Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m within Torchwood Tower,” Tosh tried to pull herself together and sound reasonable. “That anomaly above… you were right about it. It _is_ an interdimensional rift – and Cybermen from a parallel dimension were coming through it.”

“The ghosts?” Jack asked, making the necessary connections in his head with his usual, impressive speed.

Tosh nodded, although Jack couldn’t see that, of course. “Yeah. They couldn’t fully materialize until the rift became wide enough… and now they can.”

“How many of them?” Jack asked, practical as always.

“Five million,” Tosh paused, fighting her panic. “And they started converting people into their own kind as soon as they arrived. Half of the personnel of Torchwood One have probably already become like them… many others were simply killed, for putting up resistance. But that’s not the worst part of it.”

“Not the worst part?” Jack echoed incredulously. “What the hell could be worse than five million Cybermen, converting mankind into themselves?”

“How about a prison ship containing several million Daleks and releasing them, one by one?” Tosh asked and could almost see Jack freeze on the other end of the collection. “ _That_ was the object Rajesh and his people were researching. It opened, and the Daleks came out… well, they still _are_ coming out, as we speak.”

“They _opened_ it?” Jack repeated in shocked disbelief. “Has Yvonne lost her bloody mind?”

“It wasn’t her doing,” Tosh answered tiredly. “She was among the first who got converted.”

“Oh…” for a moment, Jack was very quiet. He might have despised Yvonne Hartman and her imperial ambitions – in fact, Tosh knew for certain that he _did_ – but _this_ wasn’t a fate he would have wished upon _anyone_. Jack did have his faults, but he wasn’t a cruel man.

“Are you safe where you are right now?” he then asked, his immediate concern for the well-being of his team, as always.

“Safer than most,” Tosh replied diplomatically. She didn’t want to discuss the Doctor or the fact that she was currently hiding in the TARDIS; not even through a supposedly safe connection. “Listen, Jack; an effort to close the interdimensional rift is being made right now. We hope that it will get rid of the invaders, too, but we can’t be sure.”

“Who’s _we_?” Jack asked. “Are you with Singh?”

“No,” Tosh closed her eyes for a moment to hold back the tears. “He was the first to be killed by the Daleks. I’ll tell you everything in detail – assuming I’ll get the chance – but I need to monitor the progress now. If you don’t hear from me in, say, one hour’s time, then we’ve failed, and you’ll face a bloody war between Daleks and Cybermen for the supremacy over the Earth. And what I’ve seen so far, my money would be on the Daleks.”

“Mine, too,” Jack sighed. “All right, Tosh, we’ll go into lockdown; it’s a good thing that Suzie and Owen are both here already. Try not to get killed – and call me, whatever the outcome might be.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tosh promised, “but if I shouldn’t make it, you’ll find a message in the system. It will pop up as soon as you remove me from the active members’ list. Good-bye.”

“Good luck,” Jack replied and hung up.

Tosh smiled through her tears. It was amazing how Jack always managed to restore her confidence. Even if he had nothing promising to say. The man was simply good for her morale.

She disengaged the connection to the Hub and returned to the screen. _Someone_ had to watch the Doctor’s progress with his reckless plan. If for no other reason, then in order to report to the next generation how Earth had – hopefully – escaped total annihilation.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
She made the virtual screen split between external pictures (showing Daleks and Cybermen shooting at each other and at the unfortunate soldiers who got between them) and the rift chamber, where the Doctor was about to set his plan in motion.

She could see Trevor working furiously on the abandoned computer of Adeola, whose corpse was still lying on the floor, next to her desk. Trevor studiously avoided looking at it, or at any of the other dead people, former friends and comrades every single one of them. It was apparent that he wouldn’t manage to do the work of half a dozen people alone, though, So why wasn’t he Doctor helping him?

“Reboot in two minutes,” the artificial voice of the computer announced.

Tosh only hoped that they still _had_ two minutes left. Especially as she could see on the split screen shock troops of Cybermen marching up the stairwell, only one floor below the rift chamber.

Where the hell was the Doctor?

As if reacting to her thoughts, the TARDIS adjusted the security feed, and now she could see the Doctor in the middle of the rift chamber – arguing with Rose! He held her by the shoulder, stooping slightly so he can look straight into her eyes, and was obviously trying to drum sense into her… without success.

“Once the breach collapses, that's _it_ ,” he yelled. “You will never be able to see her again. Your own mother!”

The perspective didn’t seem to bother the girl a bit. That made Tosh want to slap her silly. After having been forbidden to see her own mother for _years_ , she just couldn’t understand how someone could be so cavalier about this. Unless that someone was a selfish brat, that is.

Rose, in the meantime, was making tearful cow eyes at the Doctor, completely with the trembling lower lip routine.

“I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never gonna leave you,” she declared, actually managing to sound only _slightly_ whiny. “So what can I do to help?”

 _About time someone thought of that_ , Tosh commented to herself angrily, disgusted by the high school melodrama unfolding before her eyes, while poor Trevor was trying to work on three different computers simultaneously. She couldn’t believe that the Doctor, having lived for almost a millennium and seen all that was there to be seen, would fall for such emotional blackmail. Yet he apparently did.

 _There’s no worse fool than a lovesick old fool_ , the comment of her fellow student, a cynical Hungarian from her college years, came to her mind.

“Systems rebooted,” the computer in the rift chamber announced. “Open access.”

The Doctor and Rose were still glaring at each other stubbornly. Unsurprisingly, it was the Doctor who finally gave in, pointing at one of the computers.

“Those co-ordinates over there, set them all at six,” he watched Rose walk to the computer, sorrow and anger battling upon his mobile face. “And hurry up, will you!”

Tosh returned her attention to the part of the screen that showed the progress of the Cybermen. They had almost reached the level of the rift chamber.

“We will retreat through the breach,” one of them, presumably the current leader, ordered. “Regain the homeworld.”

Tosh was just about to hack into the communications system to warn the Doctor, when a lonely Cyberman appeared at the top of the stairs, pointing its ray gun at the others.

“You will not pass,” it said. As it spoke, Yvonne's voice was discernable through the Cyber-tones.

The Cybermen stopped as one, their apparent leader demanding what this was supposed to mean.

“You will not pass,” cyber!Yvonne repeated. 

Then she fired at the other Cybermen, destroying them. When they were all dead, she looked up where she knew the security cameras would be.

“I did my duty for Queen and Country,” she said, her emotion-laden voice in strange contrast to the metal mask that had replaced her human face. “I did my duty for Queen and Country. I did my duty for Queen and Country.”

A single black tear rolled down her metal face. Then she turned the ray gun around and blew off her own head.

“Oh, Yvonne!” Tosh whispered, her tears flowing freely.

Whatever one might think about Yvonne and her zealous devotion for a New British Empire that only existed in her head, she had indeed done her duty for Queen and Country. It was almost unbelievable that she would overcome the Cyber-conditioning by sheer willpower, but again, she had always been a strong-willed one. One that always put her duty before her personal interest.

That attitude had saved not only Tosh a short time ago, but also the Doctor and his helpers now. Without her, the whole operation might have failed. The Cybermen would not have backed off from the sight of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver.

“Levers operational,” the computer in the rift chamber announced.

The Doctor dumped one of the Magna clamps on Rose. They both attached the things to the wall next to the levers on opposite sides of the room.

“Press the red button,” the Doctor ordered.

Trevor nodded, but Rose hurriedly hit the button in his stead before he could have obeyed. He rolled his eyes but said nothing as the only one the Doctor would pay any attention was obviously the blonde girl.

“When it starts, just hold on tight,” the Time Lord instructed his prize pet, speaking very fast. “Shouldn't be too bad for us but the Daleks and the Cybermen are steeped in Void Stuff…”

Tosh shook her head in bewilderment. If the Doctor was so worried about the girl, he should left her, too, behind in the TARDIS – if he was not capable of dealing with a belligerent twenty-year-old and send her to safety with her mother. _Trevor_ could have operated the levers safely, as he had never left Earth… or his own time period.

But apparently, simple logic was not the forte of this new Doctor.

“Are you ready?” he asked, getting into their position by the levers.

Rose was staring out of the window, where a swarm of Daleks appeared at this very moment, and became deathly pale. “So are they,” she whimpered.

“Breach active,” the black Dalek screeched. “It _is_ the Doctor! Exterminate him!”

Four Daleks, still hovering in the air outside, swooped towards the window, with cries of 'exterminate!'

“Let's do it!” the Doctor yelled. He and Rose pushed the levers upwards and then hurriedly took hold of the Magna clamps.

“Online,” the computer announced.

The area filled with white light again, but this time, there was also the sound of a strong wind. The Daleks were sucked through the window, smashing through the glass as they were pulled into the white light and back to the Void. Rose and the Doctor clung to the clamps desperately, struggling to hold on. Tosh had expected that the TARDIS would react to the transdimensional maelstrom _somehow_ , but it never happened. The old girl, as Jack liked to call her, remained steady, wrapped in her own time bubble.

“The breach is open!” the Doctor shouted over the wind gleefully. “Into the Void! Ha! “

Tosh switched to the external cameras and watched with astonishment as Cybermen all over the world were lifted into the air and zoomed across all the place to Torchwood Tower, along with countless Daleks, all shrieking, all powerless. They hurtled into the Void. 

“Emergency temporal shift!” the black Dalek screeched, just outside the tower. It and three other Daleks – presumably the same ones that had come with the sphere, although it would have been hard to make any difference between them and all the others – shimmered for a moment and vanished.

“Good riddance,” Tosh muttered, although she would have preferred if they had gone to the Void, too. Who could tell what kind of havoc they would wreak in a different time? But that couldn’t be helped now.

The Genesis Ark, too, was sucked into Torchwood Tower, knocking out poor Trevor could on its way to the void. Tosh winced in sympathy but didn’t dare to leave the TARDIS and help him just yet. Hopefully, there would be a chance for that later.

Rose, of course hadn’t noticed the minor accident. She was grinning across at the Doctor, as they were billowing by the wind. Suddenly, however, there was a small explosion of sparks. The lever on Rose's side moved back into the 'off' position. The triumphant grins faded from their faces at once. 

“Offline,” the computer announced.

“Turn it on!” the Doctor hollered in Trevor’s direction. Unfortunately, Trevor was in no position to obey.

The suction started to ease. Tosh watched with increasing dread as the Daleks spinning towards the Void slowed down. In any minute now, they would be able to free themselves from the weakening sog, and then – then everything would have been in vain.

And there was nothing _she_ could have done about it. Absolutely nothing.

Rose reached for the lever while desperately trying to maintain her grip on the Magna clamp. Unfortunately, the lever was just slightly too far away – barely beyond her reach, but still beyond it. She strained to reach it, eventually falling onto it as her hand slid away from the clamp. The Doctor became deathly pale as he watched her struggle with the lever.

“I've gotta get it upright!” she whimpered, and Tosh couldn’t help but feel some grudging respect for her. _Make that a great deal of respect_ , she though. The girl might be a git, but she had courage, one had to give her that.

Groaning with the effort, Rose pushed the lever upwards, until it finally stood in a vertical position. 

“Online and locked,” the computer announced.

The suction increased again – but now Rose has nothing else to hold on to save from the lever. 

“Rose, hold on!” the Doctor shouted in despair. “Hold on!”

But the Void pulled at her, making it near impossible for her to keep her grip. She winced and screamed with the effort, her strength almost spent, while the Doctor was staring at her in absolute terror, unable to do anything, reaching out to her in vain. With a last cry, Rose's grip finally slipped. She was pulled inexorably towards the Void, the Doctor screaming her name as she was pulled away from him. 

Before she’d have reached the breach, however, one of the men in those black jumpsuits appeared in a flash. She practically fell into his arms, and had barely time enough to glance over her shoulder at the Doctor before they both vanished again, presumably into a parallel dimension. 

In the next moment, the breach closed itself. The wind died down, leaving the place eerily silent. Only the heavy breathing of the Doctor could be heard through the communications system, as he was still staring at the place where Rose had disappeared.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Deeming that it would now be safe for her to leave the TARDIS, Tosh hurried up the stairway the one level that separated her from the Rift chamber. First she ran to Trevor and checked his pulse. She noticed with relief that it was still there, even though very faint.

“He’s still alive,” she said, releasing a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “Probably concussed; he could also have a couple of bruised ribs. That thing practically slammed into him… we need to call for help, Doctor!

But the Doctor wasn’t even listening to her. He walked slowly up to the wall where, only minutes earlier, the breach – the gateway to a parallel dimension – had been. He laid one palm flat against it, and then rested his head there, his face wet with tears. 

“Doctor!” Tosh raised her voice a little. “Are you listening to me? This building is full of dead and dying people, lots of them half-converted – we need _help_!”

The Doctor finally let his hand slide down the wall but still didn’t turn to her.

“What do you expect me to do, Toshiko?” he asked tonelessly. “I’m not the one who started this. I’m the one who ended it… and paid the price. What more can one man, even a Time Lord, be expected to do?”

“ _You_ paid the price?” Tosh echoed incredulously, thinking of Yvonne and Adeola and Gareth and Matt and _Rajesh_ – all of them dead, none of their own doing. “Your little blonde git _did_ get rescued in the last moment, didn’t she? A great lot of other people here did _not_! The Doctor _I used to know_ would not wallow in self-pity; he would do everything in his power to help those who need it most. But you’re obviously no longer _that_ person.”

Now the Doctor turned away from the wall, his face gaunt and expressionless. 

“There's one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close,” he muttered, more to himself than to Tosh. “It would take a lot of power to send a projection through, but perhaps from the orbit of a supernova…”

“You’re about to burn up a sun just to say goodbye?” Tosh asked, her voice harsher than she had ever thought herself to be capable of. “You’re truly delusional. She’s well off, wherever she is – and _you_ are needed _here_!”

The Doctor just shrugged and walked away from her without a word, heading back to the TARDIS. 

“Fine!” Tosh cried after his retreating back, tears of anger swimming in her eyes. “Go and whine through the crack between dimensions like a kicked puppy. That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Running away from the mess you have created. Go and don’t come back, ever! This planet is better off without you, you pompous, condescending, selfish bastard!”

The Doctor ignored her and walked off, his mind completely occupied with the logistics of how to contact his precious Rose one last time. For a moment, Tosh seriously considered running after him and slapping some sense into that thick skull of his – but only for a moment. _He_ might be able to afford to walk out of a lot of hurt and dying people, but _she_ was not. Those people needed her help… assuming there were still some who were not beyond help already.

Since she clearly could not count on the Doctor (and that still hurt her more than she would be willing to admit), she turned to the only man who had never let her down. She called Jack again.

"The breach has been closed,” she informed him. “Both the Daleks and the Cybermen who had come through it have been sent back to the Void… I’ll give you the details later. The most important thing is that they’re gone… well, mostly.”

“What do you mean _mostly_?” Jack demanded.

“The Cybermen started ‘upgrading” people _en gross_ ,” Tosh explained. “I’ve checked the monitors; when they ran out of full body suits, they simply grafted implants to people and reprogrammed their brains. There still must be functional conversion units _and_ half-converted people around here. We must find them, and… well, do what we have to do.”

They both knew _what_ they had to do. Once the conversion process had started, there was no turning back. And a single Cyberman would have been enough to restart the whole nightmare, reconstructing their race, raising a new cyber army. The converted people had to be executed and incinerated, the cyber conversion units dismantled and the parts melted down. 

It was that simple. Either them, or the rest of humankind.

It still wasn’t an easy decision to make – or an easy order to give and carry out – though.

“Can you make an educated guess just how many of that new kind of Cybermen could be there?” Jack asked, practical as always. Tosh shook her head.

“Not even the faintest idea. There were almost eight hundred people working for Headquarters, and practically all of them had come to work today,” she added, calling up the lists that showed the employees who had logged in. “The Cybermen were herding them to the conversion units all day. There could be hundreds of them. Jack, I… I can’t deal with this situation on my own.”

“Of course not,” Jack agreed. “Are you still safe?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’ll try to restart the security system and close the snap doors in the Rift chamber – that’s where I am right now, with a passed-out scientist from Rajesh’s team – but I have no idea if they will keep the Cybermen out. Plus, there might be a handful of survivors who would need help.”

“You’ll need an army over there,” Jack said grimly. “Literally. And the only army with suitably powerful weapons that could take out Cybermen would be…”

“… UNIT,” Tosh finished for him. “But would they come? You aren’t the only one who had a problem with Yvonne, you know.”

“Yeah, but they will come if _I ask_ them,” Jack said. “Or, more accurately, if the Brigadier does. But if I send them in…”

“It’s all right, Jack,” Tosh interrupted. “I can deal with them, if I have to. They can’t frighten me anymore… well, not much. Send them in. They are the only ones who can hope to deal with the situation, and we both know that. I’ll manage.”

“All right,” Jack said. “I’ll make a few phone calls. You stay as safe as you can and don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“I never do,” Tosh replied simply. “But Jack, if UNIT takes over here… there will be lots of… sensitive stuff you might not want to fall in their hands. Not even until the legal issues are solved between the two organizations.”

“You’re right, of course,” Jack agreed. “I’ll send you Suzie and Owen right away, to scavenge what they can. You try to get your hands on the digital database as soon as it’s moderately safe. I’ll call Archie to Cardiff to monitor the Rift, and then head over to London myself. I might have to throw my weight around a bit if UNIT gets too greedy.”

He hung up, without a further word. Tosh disconnected her phone and sighed.

“Please, hurry up,” she murmured; then she turned her attention to the immediate tasks at hand.


	6. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my own take on what the aftermath of the Battle of Canary Wharf might have looked like. We know Jack sent his team to scavenge whatever they could find among the ruins of Torchwood Tower, so assuming that Tosh was already there is only one step down the same lane.
> 
> My good friend aeshna_cyanea and I discussed the possible defensive mechanisms the Torchwood One archivists would need, in case someone would want to force the codes and passwords out of them. This is what I came up in the end; I hope it sounds plausible.

**CHAPTER FIVE – AFTERSHOCKS**

Tosh needed less than twenty minutes to get the security system of Torchwood Tower under control. She closed every single snap door in the building – assuming that they still worked. The system was fritzing out in many places.

She also redirected all working security cameras to send their feed to the rift chamber, wiring several laptops together, so that she could follow what was going on in the different parts of the building. There were fires everywhere, caused by the high energy weapons of the Daleks and the Cybermen, but nowhere near her position. She thanked whatever deity might have been watching over her for small favours.

She found one of the weapons Mickey and his black-clad buddies had been wielding, discarded on the floor. She checked it; it seemed still in working order. That made her feel slightly better about her situation. She laid the weapon on the floor, within reach, and looked if she could help Trevor in some way.

She fished a few scented refreshment tissues from her handbag and rubbed down Trevor’s face with them. The young man groaned quietly and opened his eyes… only to shut them again. The strong, white light in the rift chamber stabbed into his brain like hot knives.

“What happened?” he asked blearily. “Did we do it?”

“We did it,” Tosh assured him. “The breach has been closed.”

“So it’s over?” he still didn’t reopen his eyes.

“Far from it,” Tosh replied grimly. “Clean-up hasn’t even started… and it isn’t gonna be pretty. I’ve closed all security doors I could get working, but with all this alien technology lying around, if scavengers start coming the risks are beyond imagination.”

“Most of the stuff isn’t here,” Trevor said. “Just the pieces we are – _were_ – currently working with and the new founds that needed to be catalogued… which is bad enough. We’ll need help to… to contain the situation.”

“The cavalry is on the way,” Tosh promised. “I’ve spoken to Jack. He’s calling in UNIT to deal with the converted people and the cyber conversion equipment. And my team is coming to help, too. They’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

Trevor laughed… and regretted it immediately, as pain lanced through his head from even that small tremor.

“Yvonne would _hate_ it: the misfits of Harkness _and_ UNIT prodding around her base.”

“She would hate Cybermen running amok in London even more,” Tosh replied, “Although Jack seems to agree with her where sensitive technology falling into the hand of UNIT is concerned.”

“They won’t be able to gain access to anything but what is here,” Trevor said. “The outer storages are secured. Without the help of an archivist, no-one can get in. Not that easily anyway. Not right away.”

“Unless they grab a surviving archivist and get the passwords and codes from him,” Tosh said grimly. She was understandably prejudiced, but she wouldn’t put _anything_ beyond UNIT in these days.

Trevor shook his head – and winced in pain.

“Our archivists have a high-level psychic training,” he explained. “They’re resistant to hypnosis, and in the case of a telepathic attack, they can erase the information from their memories at will.”

“But what if someone forces them by threats or physical torture?” Tosh asked. Trevor shrugged and winced again. Even such a tiny movement caused him considerable pain in the head.

“They all have a small cranial implant that can be set off by a simple password; it allows a quick and painless death. Like the cyanide capsules of those CIA agents – only undetectable. Only the implanted person knows the code word; they choose it individually, and the implant is encoded to their voice print, so there is no way for an outsider to set it off. It cannot be surgically removed or destroyed by sonic waves, either. Not without killing the person, that is. Alien technology… and not a well-known piece of it.”

“How comes you know so much about it, then?” Tosh asked suspiciously.

Trevor gave her a grim smile. “I used to work for Cybernetics, remember? I was part of the team that created the implant in the first place.”

Tosh thought of the quiet, reserved young man wearing that conservative suit whom she had met in the lift just a day before – although it seemed now as if years had passed since then. What was his name again? Something Welsh… Yantoe… no, Ianto Jones. Junior Archivist. Keeper of Torchwood One’s secrets.

Thinking that the polite and sarcastic young man would have such a killer implant in his brilliant head almost made her sick. Although, at second thought, it made sense. The archivists were the key factor of Headquarters’ database, to all its secrets. No matter how well-trained, they _would_ break under torture after a while – and killed afterwards anyway. It was better to make sure they could have a clean and easy way out, if they found that everything was lost. She particularly appreciated the fact that the choice was left to them; that no-one could simply set the implant off to kill them.

The ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts. She answered the call with a weary sigh.

“Torchwood,” she said. It was her official phone, used only for work-related stuff, and secured by alien technology. Practically no-one but her team-mates knew the number, so if Jack had given it to anyone else, that person had to be trustworthy.

“Doctor Sato?” a deep female voice asked crisply. She confirmed her identity, and the voice went on. “This is Captain Erisa Magambo from UNIT. We’ve been sent to deal with the situation at Torchwood Tower. I understand that you are in control of the security system?”

“Partially,” Tosh corrected. “I can remotely open the sealed snap doors for you… the ones that are still working, that is. And I have the security cameras rerouted here, so I can watch your progress. But that’s all.”

“That’s all we need,” the female UNIT soldier said, her voice crisp and business-like. “Well, some local knowledge of the layout of the Tower wouldn’t hurt, but we can go on without it if we have to.”

“One of the local scientists is here with me,” Tosh informed her. “But he’s concussed and probably has a hair fracture of his skull. I might be able to download a map of the Tower for you, though.”

“Excellent,” Captain Magambo said. “I’ll send you up a field medic as soon as I can. Are the lifts still operational?”

“They ought to be,” Tosh consulted one of the screens. “At least no system’s malfunctions are marked here.”

“Very good,” Magambo said. “I have all entrances under armed watch; the rest of the squads will take the lift to the top level and clean the building from top to ground, level by level.”

“I hope you’ve got some heavy firepower handy,” Tosh replied, “'cos these cyber guys are annoyingly tough.”

“We have to do what we have to do,” Magambo answered with an almost audible shrug. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

“I can’t wait,” Tosh muttered, still not comfortable with the idea of sharing the place with a whole contingent of UNIT soldiers. But Jack had been right. The regular armed forces wouldn’t be able to deal with this.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Captain Erisa Magambo turned out to be a trim black woman in her mid-thirties, with her jet-black hair twisted into a tight knot on the nape of her neck and hidden under that typical red beret all UNIT soldiers wore. With her hair down and in more feminine clothes, she might have been a beautiful woman, but at the moment all she radiated was cold efficiency. Not that there would be anything wrong with _that_. If she wanted to get the disaster under control, she _had_ to be efficient.

She shook Tosh’s hand and sent her escort, a tall, very handsome Private who apparently had some field medic training, to check on Trevor’s condition. Then she took a look around the rift chamber, taking in the equipment with an expression that revealed that she understood more of the tech stuff than she would be willing to admit.

“Impressive,” she judged. “Professor Taylor will have his field day with this stuff, once it is dismantled.”

Tosh knew who Professor Taylor was, of course. Everyone even remotely affiliated with UNIT knew the eccentric Welshman; or at least had heard about him. Despite being one of the lead scientific advisors of UNIT, he was more than willing to get his hands dirty by actual engineering work, and was pretty decent as an engineer. His true genius, however, manifested in his chosen field of theoretical astrophysics. Only two other people had the same reputation in the scientific community, and they both lived in the overseas: in the USA and in Canada, respectively.

So yes, if anyone but Headquarters’ own head researchers, Professor Taylor was capable of understanding and even using the equipment in the rift chamber. Tosh made a mental note of warning Jack as soon as the red berets were out of earshot. She was sure Jack wouldn’t like to see the particle cannon fall in their hands.

Magambo, in the meantime, had started co-ordinating things with the medical staff she had brought with her.

“Doctor Sullivan, we’ve found survivors on the top floor,” she spoke to someone though her earpiece. “I’m gonna send them to the triage tent out front…” she paused, listening to the answer, her attitude unusually respectful for speaking to a mere doctor. “One is concussed, the other one seems unhurt, but we can’t be sure…” she listened again. “Yes, sir, of course.”

She disconnected and looked at the field medic checking on Trevor. “Private Jenkins, when you’re done patching them up, I want them down at the triage tent.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man replied crisply.

“No, ma’am,” Tosh said calmly at the same time. 

A lot more calmly than she felt, to be honest. Being in close proximity of UNIT officers – _any_ UNIT officers – still made her extremely uncomfortable, but she couldn’t afford to panic, not now. Captain Magambo gave her a look usually reserved for lower life forms… like civilians in general and civilians _not_ working for UNIT in particular.

“What do you mean _no_?” she demanded.

“I mean I don’t answer to you, Captain,” Tosh replied, trying to ignore the tremors in her belly. “I only answer to Captain Jack Harkness, and he ordered me to stay here and help secure the Tower. I’m unhurt, I’m Torchwood, and I’m a scientist – a good one. I’ve got work to do here.”

“Yes, Doctor Sato, I know _exactly_ how good a scientist you are,” Captain Magambo said slowly, and Tosh blanched because she understood that the Captain ranked high enough in the UNIT hierarchy to know about her imprisonment, despite the fact that her record had been wiped. Still she wasn’t going to back off.

“Then you know what I’m capable of,” she said coldly. “Now, we can stand here and argue all day while people keep dying all over the building and half-converted Cybermen run amok – or you can go on, doing your job, and let me do _mine_.”

“And _that_ would be?” Magambo asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Confidential,” Tosh replied curtly. “You can take it up to my boss – he and the rest of Torchwood Three will be here shortly. I’m just following my orders, Captain, the way you are following yours.”

For a moment, Magambo glared at her in the most displeased manner. Tosh didn’t back off. She knew that in the end, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart would support Jack’s claim, and she knew that the UNIT officer knew that, too. With Yvonne gone, Jack was now the _de facto_ leader of Torchwood, since Archie in Glasgow didn’t really count, and while the two organizations were supposed to work together, UNIT didn’t have any real jurisdiction over Torchwood.

Magambo might have ignored that fact if Jack weren’t already on his way to London. But she was apparently a smart woman – smart enough _not_ to cross the protégée of the Brig. The Great Old Man of UNIT might have retired from active duty, but he still carried a great deal of weight with the brass… to say it very carefully.

So Magambo did what every sensible officer conscious of their own career would have done – she backed off.

Sort of. If turning on her heels and stomping off without a further word could be called _backing off_.

Tosh decided to call it a victory; even if only a small one. She liked to get the upper hand against UNIT, regardless how small the matter might be.

“You heard the captain, Private,” she said to the field medic. “Take Doctor Howard down where he can be treated properly. I’ll keep monitoring the security system from here and open the snap doors for you guys if I have to.”

Private Jenkins looked a bit unsure about the whole thing – he really looked cute with that confused expression on his pretty face – but Tosh didn’t wait for him to _think_ about things. She turned back to Trevor and patted him on the arm.

“Take care of yourself,” she said. “I’ll check on you when the worst part is over.”

Trevor caught her hand. “Wait! You may need my access code, just in case.”

He handed her a small, handheld PDA-device before the other red berets came in with a gurney. Tosh thanked him but waited until they were all out of the door before looking at the small screen. Aside from a single code of a long combination of numbers and letters, there was also a message.

_Secure the sublevels first. This will help._

Tosh entered the code into one of the computers. After a few seconds, large letters flashed across the screen.

CODE ACCEPTED. ACCESS FREE FOR DR. RAJESH SINGH. PLEASE ENTER CODE AGAIN BEFORE ATTEMPTING ANY SYSTEMWIDE ACTIONS.

For a moment, Tosh was taken aback; then she understood the hidden message. Rajesh had been one of the department heads. Using his code, she would be able to lock down all the Archives: both the physical _and_ the digital ones. And if she played around a little with the Torchwood One mainframe, changing the time coding, everybody would think that _Rajesh_ had done it, to secure Torchwood’s secrets from the alien invaders. That way, no-one could accuse _her_ of sabotage. Trevor was really a very smart man.

Of course, locking down the Archives would mean that Torchwood Three won’t be able to gain access, either – but that was all right. If Jack’s – or Archie’s – passwords wouldn’t work, she and Suzie could always think of something to reverse the lock. Unless they would find a surviving archivist, that is. The most important thing was that UNIT or MI5 or whatever agency wanted a piece of the cake, wouldn’t be able to get their hands on any Torchwood information.

To achieve that, however, she had to go down to the Central Archive, which she remembered to be on Sublevel One. It had an independent server, only from which could the Archives be put under lockdown. She redirected control over the security system to her own laptop, which had been enhanced by alien technology, and left the rift chamber, sealing the door behind her.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Not wanting to use the lifts, which were needed for the transport of potential survivors – supposed that there _would_ be any more – she started descending on the stairs instead… only to have her way blocked by burned-out, headless Cyberman body suits. Two Privates were dragging them away from the stairs to make access to the factory floor possible. One of them, a big guy with a ruggedly handsome face and straight dark hair, looked at her with a frown.

“What are you doing here, Miss? All survivors are supposed to go down to the med teams.”

“I’m from Torchwood Cardiff,” Tosh replied. “I was sent to help with the clean-up.”

She leaned down and examined the only dead Cyberman that still had its head. The track of a black tear could still be seen on the metal face, which made her able to recognize it. She swallowed hard. She had not really expected Yvonne to survive, but still…

“Be respectful with this one, Private,” she said. “This one used to be Director Yvonne Hartman.”

The soldier looked from the dead cyborg at her in confusion. “How could you possibly know that, Miss? These… _things_ are all identical.”

“I saw her on the security footage,” Tosh replied. “She… she shot the others to pieces to save the people trapped in the office above. She _deserves_ respect.”

“Are you sure it was her?” the Private asked doubtfully.

Tosh shrugged. “The head is still intact; that would make it easy to do a DNA identification test on the brain inside. But yeah, I’m actually quite sure,” she put a Torchwood Three marker on the metal body suit, ignoring the sight of the soldier getting a little green around the gills from that though. “My colleague, Doctor Owen Harper, will do the test. Just leave the body here.”

The Private agreed readily enough, and Tosh continued her way down. To her relief, the stairway was relatively empty and clean. The actual massacre had taken place in the labs and offices – and in that curtained area where, unknown by Torchwood personnel, the Cybermen had installed their conversion units – and the UNIT soldiers used the lifts, so that she could hope to remain undisturbed.

It was also bloody dark there, and that made her uncomfortable. Most of the power – save for that of the rift chamber, which had its own generator – had been cut to the Tower, and she did not expect the lights coming on any time, soon. A quick check back in the rift chamber had told him that the Cybermen had routed the power (including the backup generators) to their conversion units. It was going to take _hours_ to re-route them back.

Using a torch would have been an unnecessary risk. As abandoned as the stairway seemed, the bright torchlight might have drawn unwanted attention. So she took out the Torchwood version of night goggles – they looked like a pair of designer sunglasses, really – and put them on. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was the best that she could do. Mindful of the blurred vision provided the goggles, she continued her way down.

“Captain Magambo, we’ve found survivors at the thirty-fifth floor,” an unknown male voice crackled through her earpiece, which she had readjusted to the frequency UNIT was using during this particular operation, just to monitor their progress.

“How many?” Magambo’s voice asked.

“Three,” the unknown soldier replied. “One of them is badly burned. The other two are in deep shock, but seem okay otherwise. Gonna send them to the triage tent right away.”

“All right…” Magambo trailed off, clearly wanting to know the caller’s identity.

“Private Grey, ma’am,” the soldier supported the information.

“All right, Pivate Grey, go on with it.”

“May I ask, ma’am, how many does that make?”

“Nine so far,” Magambo said grimly. “See that you find some more, soldier.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Private Grey answered crisply and broke the connection.

Nine so far, out of more than eight hundred. Tosh suppressed a sigh. Of course, it could have been a lot worse. The Canary Wharf district employed over sixty thousand people. Hadn't been the conflict between Daleks and Cybermen not mainly confined to Torchwood Tower, the death toll would have been the more horrendous. 

Even so, she _had_ seen the dead bodies littering the pavement all over Canada Square. And no-one had yet given any thought to the many civilian deaths that must have occurred when five million Cybermen had fully materialized around the world. Those things had been _everywhere_ – and people had put up resistance in many places, she knew that.

One thing was certain: Earth would never be the same as it had been before. No matter how good a cover story the government would come up with (and Torchwood, she was certain about that, would support the cover-up every way they could), deep down people would feel the terror for the rest of their lives. She knew _she_ would.

The ringing of her work phone was a welcome excuse to interrupt her long climb down for a moment. She disconnected her earpiece to prevent the unpleasant feedback look that sometimes was created by mobile phones and Bluetooth devices working in close proximity, and answered the call.

To her surprise, it was Suzie.

“We’ve just arrived," Jack’s second-in-command informed her. “Got a chopper ride from the local UNIT base, as they were coming up to help anyway. Where are you?”

“On my way down to Sublevel One, to put the Archives under lockdown,” Tosh replied.

Suzie whistled quietly, causing Tosh to hold the phone away from her ear for a moment. “You can do _that_? I didn’t know our access codes worked with Headquarters’ mainframe, too.”

“They don’t,” Tosh said dryly. “I’ll tell you the details later. Right now, I must hurry up before UNIT finds anything they’re not supposed to find. There are too many secrets down here, and Jack has no intention of sharing them with any outside agencies.”

“Smart man,” Suzie commented. “All right, where do you need us?”

“Owen will be needed with the injured, I guess… and with doing DNA tests on the converted people’s brains. We need to identify them somehow. But I could use your help down here. This is where all the tech considered too important or too dangerous to be easily accessible is stored. I think we need to take a look at the stuff before I’d lock down the physical Archives as well.”

“Understood,” for a moment, there were muted voices, as Suzie was obviously consulting with someone, then she spoke into her phone again. “I’ll meet you on Sublevel One. What office should I look for?”

“Rupert Howarth’s,” Tosh told her. “The Central Archive.”

“Got it,” Suzie said. “Wait for me there, and… are you armed?”

“Just my hand gun,” Tosh was already regretting that she had left the big gun from the parallel reality in the rift chamber. But that could not be helped anymore.

“Keep a low profile, then,” Suzie advised. “At least until I get there. Jack let me bring the _really_ big calibre this time.”

Knowing what Torchwood’s main weapon, nicknamed as the Big Gun, could do, Tosh continued her way down feeling slightly better. Even if any kind of safety was only an illusion.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Her legs were shaking with the effort when she finally reached Sublevel One. She had never been there before. This was where the really big secrets were kept, and Yvonne would never have allowed any outsiders here. Not even from a different Torchwood branch.

 _Especially_ from the Cardiff branch, as she and Jack had always held each other in the deepest possible contempt.

Tosh had known that she would not find Rupert Howarth alive in the centre of his private empire. Had the Head Archivist been there during the attack, the Archives had already been locked down.

She wondered whether the Cybermen had got down to the sublevels at all. To her knowledge, they had started the upgrading process with the personnel working on the upper levels, herding everyone upstairs as they would run out of people there. Had they searched this deep as well?

The sight of a middle-aged, bespectacled man wearing a conservative three-piece suit answered that question. The man was slumped back in the armchair behind his desk, with an automatic pistol in his hand… and a large, burnt hole in the middle of his chest; a wound unmistakably caused by a Cyberman's ray gun. Tosh had never seen the man before, but it could only be Rupert Howarth.

Apparently, the only ones she would find here were the ones who had fought back. She felt a great deal of respect for the old-fashioned gentleman who looked like some sort of librarian out of an early twentieth-century film, and yet had the courage to resist those monsters. It also explained why he hadn’t initiated the lockdown. They’d got to him before he could have done so.

Gritting her teeth, Tosh pulled the dead man, together with his chair, away from the desk that had a computer terminal the likes of which she had never seen before. Its screen seemed to be nothing but a transparent plane of plastic that had random data flickering across it. The keyboard was a pad of touch controls built into the desktop and could be flipped around to be hidden under what seemed a simple writing surface.

It appeared that Rupert Howarth’s conservative quirks did _not_ include working equipment. Even if he had forced his young assistants to put hand-written labels on every item that was stored in the physical Archives.

Tosh entered Rajesh’s access code (ignoring the dumb pain the mere thought of him caused) and asked for a detailed layout of the sublevel area. The results made her gasp with amazement (and with envy).

There were seven sublevels altogether. Sublevel One was the Central Archive, where Howarth and his assistants had done all the cataloguing and the digital encoding. The two levels below were no more than large laboratories, fitted out with all sorts of alien technology that was needed for the analysing of unknown artefacts, securing them and experimenting with them.

Another three levels consisted of the physical Archives: rows and rows of boxes and cabinets filled with files and catalogued items. According to Trevor, only the most recent stuff that had not been shipped off to Torchwood House or another one of the outer storages yet. It was an awful lot of _recent_ stuff – but again, until today, eight hundred-and-some people had worked for Headquarters.

Finally, the lowest level was simply labelled as _the cells_. Curious, she asked for visuals from that level, and the computer brought up a picture of an empty corridor. Heavy security doors stood open at regular intervals, and as she found the zooming function, she could see that behind each door was a small cell, with a narrow cot and basic conveniences.

Some of the cells were empty. In others she could see dead bodies, bearing the scorched marks of Cyberman ray guns. Not humans; aliens. She recognized a Weevil, wondering how it had got there, as to their knowledge the only way they could get to Earth was through the Cardiff Rift. But perhaps Jack’s predecessor had sent one to Headquarters for research purposes. Back then, cooperation between London and Cardiff had been a lot more regular.

The other aliens were unknown for her, save a vaguely humanoid one with long arms, a tail and a blunt, lizard-like face. Its scales had faded to grey from their original, jewelled colours, and the soft frill of skin curving across its sleek head hung limp, but Tosh recognized the species nonetheless. She had met a group of them during her travels with the Doctor, but she couldn’t understand how they would end up on Earth. Their species wasn’t supposed to develop interstellar travel for another six thousand years or so.

Of course, accidents happened. Some of them could even lead to temporal displacement, especially if wormholes were involved.

Still, the presence of the dead aliens meant that they would have to find a way of disposing them. She knew UNIT would be all too happy to dissect dead aliens; and while sometimes they did the same at Torchwood Three, she did not want the _A’isha_ end up on an examination table. Not even if it was dead. She could still remember the group of them, dancing in the triple moonlight on the planet _Zedrani_ , glittering like living gemstones, their multi-coloured frill luminescent and throbbing with life energy…

No, something that beautiful, that _alive_ deserved to be treated with respect. Even in death.

She fished out her phone and called the landline in Jack’s office again.

“Jack, I’m in the Central Archive of Headquarters,” she said when Jack answered the call. “I’m just about to lock them down, so that UNIT won’t be able to get their hands on anything. But there are alien bodies on the lowest level that need to be disposed of – and once I’ve initiated the lockdown, I’m not sure we’ll be able to get in again. Not for a while at least.”

“What about the digital Archives?” Jack asked.

“The same problem,” Tosh told him. “I’d like to create a direct link between them and our Mainframe and transfer as much of the data as I can before I’ll have to lock them down. I’m not sure Headquarters has _really_ sent copies of everything to Torchwood House and Archie.”

“Neither am I,” Jack paused for a moment. “Can you establish a secure transfer link between the Central Archive and our Mainframe?”

“Perhaps,” Tosh said uncertainly. “If you help me from your end.”

“Tell me what I have to do,” Jack ordered.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Ten minutes later the transfer link between the digital Archives of Headquarters and the Torchwood Hub in Cardiff had been established and data transfer was running at the highest possible speed. Even so, Tosh knew that it would take hours to copy all the accumulated data – and an ungodly long time afterwards to decode, catalogue and file them away properly. _Years_ most likely, unless she got some help. Which, considering Jack’s reluctance to hire new personnel (mostly because of trust issues) was rather unlikely.

Suzie arrived just as the data transfer started running its cycle. She was unusually pale and shaken to the bone, which, as far as Tosh could tell, was a first. _Nothing_ had ever shaken Suzie since Tosh had come to Cardiff. Of course, the desolation left behind by the Daleks and the Cybermen could not be compared with rogue Weevils or the havoc wrought by the occasional Hoix. The worst threat Cardiff had to face had been Margaret Blaine’s nefarious plan to blow up the city, but _that_ had been averted by the previous incarnation of the Doctor and a much younger, mortal Jack.

“I thought I’ve seen it all," Suzie admitted shakily. “The ugliness, the pain, the malice. But this… _nothing_ can prepare you for _this_. The worst part are those half-converted people. Human bodies, with mechanical parts protruding from the living flesh… while the real people within are dead already...”

“Not _all_ of them were dead,” Tosh reminded her. “At least Yvonne Hartman has managed to overcome the cyber-programming by sheer willpower – for a while anyway. I saw it with my own eyes. She saved me… and she sacrificed herself to buy time for the Doctor to make his plan work.”

“The _Doctor_?” Suzie repeated in shock. “The _Doctor_ was here? Does Jack know that?”

Tosh shook her head. “Not yet; and I’m still of two minds whether to tell him or not. This wasn’t the Doctor he used to know… or I, for that matter. It was the most recent incarnation.”

“You mean the arrogant snot that started spreading the rumours of Prime Minister Harriet Jones’ ill health?” Suzie asked grimly. 

She was an ardent supporter of the former Prime Minister and had been royally pissed when the vote of no confidence got through the Parliament. She had been even more pissed when she had learned through the Torchwood grapevine (she had had her own contacts at Headquarters) who had been responsible for those rumours. It had led to the only real confrontation between her and Jack that Tosh could remember, Jack seeing the Doctor through rose-tinted glasses, as always, and Suzie speaking up against the Time Lord, pointing out a few less than stellar reactions of his whenever mere humans had dared to think for themselves, instead of running to him and begging for his help.

For her part, Tosh was still torn between her fond memories of a Doctor both she and Jack had used to know and this new version of him that irritated the hell out of her.

“At least he managed to save us this time,” was all she said.

“Yeah?” Suzie asked with biting sarcasm. “Why are we standing in the middle of a slaughterhouse then?”

“it wasn’t his fault,” Tosh said reasonably. “Without him, things would have escalated tenfold… or much worse. At least both the Daleks and the Cybermen are gone, back to the Void, and hopefully won’t bother us again. Clean-up will be hell, though,” she added with a sigh. Suzie pulled a face.

“He couldn’t stay and help a little with _that_ , could he?”

“He never does,” Tosh answered with a brittle smile. “It’s not in his _nature_. It doesn’t matter; we’ll manage well enough on our own.” Which reminded her of something. “Suzie, do you think we could arrange that Doctor Singh’s body would be released for funeral? He was killed by the Daleks, trying to stop them from releasing their buddies. He deserves better than being thrown into some oven and burned with the rest.”

“I think if there’s family to claim the bodies, they’ll be released,” Suzie said. “At least if there’s no obvious sign of alien involvement. At least that’s what Doctor Harrington, the chief medical officer of UNIT had said upon their arrival. Do you know where the body is?”

Tosh nodded. “Right below us, in the lab on Sublevel Three. I have no idea how they’d managed to drag the sphere down there… or if the gateway originally appeared a lot lower… but it was there, in Rajesh’s lab, all the time.”

“I wonder why Yvonne wanted Singh to work with it,” Suzie frowned. “He is… was... and exobiologist, not an engineer.”

“They assumed there would be some life forms within,” Tosh replied with a shrug,” and they were right, it seems. Although they had probably expected different life forms. Less destructive ones.”

“No kidding,” Suzie commented dryly. “Well, if we’re no longer needed here, we can take a look at what’s going on down on the other sublevels. Can you initiate the lockdown remotely from your laptop? Just in case UNIT refuses to be _reasonable_ about ownership.”

Tosh shook her head. “No; I need to enter the lockdown order manually, from the Central Archive. But I can seal the security doors while we are down in the labs. Since I have control over the security system, they won’t be able to get in, unless they cut through the doors with laser torches.”

Suzie nodded. “Good enough. Let’s go.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Since Tosh already knew that the Cybermen _had_ managed to get down to the sublevels, they were not surprised to find a dozen or so dead people in the labs, between the burnt-out metal hulls of the Cybermen killed by Daleks in Rajesh’s lab. The human victims all had fatal crush injuries or burn marks; the ones hit by the Dalek death ray, like Rajesh himself, were little more than blackened husks.

Suzie radioed to the corpse collectors – the group of UNIT soldiers who had been given the task to collect the bodies – and put a tag on Rajesh’s body with his name and the note that it should be released to the family.

“The body has burn marks that can be easily explained by the explosions, if you intend to go with the cover story of a terrorist attack,” she explained to Doctor Harrington.

“That’s one less unidentified body to worry about,” UNIT’s chief medical officer replied in audible relief. “I don’t know what to do with the other ones – if we don’t release them to the families, people wills tart asking uncomfortable questions, and we cannot Retcon the entire capital.”

“Actually,” Tosh took the radio from Suzie, “I think I can help with that. Torchwood Cardiff has a full list of Headquarters’ personnel, complete with photos and DNA identification; and I’ve developed a facial recognition software a short time ago that’s much better than the one the police are using. I have it on my laptop right here.”

“That would be a big help,” Doctor Harrington agreed. “We need to identify these bodies as fast as we can – we cannot have the corpses in cold storage for an indefinite time. Can you come over with that laptop of yours to our temporary morgue?”

“Not right now; we need to check the deepest sublevel for possible survivors first,” Tosh replied. “But in half an hour I can be there… where exactly do you need me?”

“It’s a warehouse that Torchwood was still building, right on the ground level, over the parking lot,” Harrington told her. “It seems that – unknown to them – the Cybermen have set up their conversion units right there. But I have to warn you; it’s not a pretty sight.”

“No, I didn’t expect it to be,” Tosh replied grimly. “In half an hour then, Doctor Harrington.”

She disconnected and looked at Suzie. “We don’t have much time. Let’s clean out the lowest level; hopefully the data transfer to Cardiff will run its cycle until then, so that I can put the Archives on lockdown.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Suzie asked. Tosh shrugged.

“Then we’ll have to interrupt the transfer and hope that we’ll be able to deactivate the lockdown afterwards. Jack doesn’t want UNIT to get their hands on _anything_ here. That includes the labs _and_ the dead aliens on the lowest level.”

“Let’s hope they do have some cold storage facilities down there,” Suzie commented unhappily. “Otherwise we’ll have a problem with the alien bodies.”

“I’m sure they do,” Tosh replied. “Whatever Jack might think about Headquarters, they are – _were_ – nothing if not efficient.”

They hurried down to Sublevel Seven, searching the cells for possible previous inhabitants, whether dead or alive. Aside from two dead Weevils, a few unknown alien corpses and the charred remains of a Hoix that had apparently been stupid enough to try and chew a little on one of the Cybermen, if its broken teeth were any indication, they only found the lizard-like alien Tosh had seen on the security camera earlier… and, in the hindmost cell, the child.

It was not really a child, of course, not even remotely human, but it looked like one. Like an eerie but beautiful alien child between ten and twelve. Its skin had a luminous gold colour; its eyebrows had a metallic quality as if gemstones and precious metals had been crushed and brushed across the hairs. From above each brow sprang delicate antennae, which curved back over the top of its head. Its short-cropped hair that covered its skull like a helmet was of the same metallic multicoloured strands as the brows. Its facetted eyes, too, glittered like gemstones, half-open under the leathery eyelids.

“It looks like a dragonfly developed bipedal,” Suzie commented softly. She seemed completely amazed by the little creature.

“She is a _Deneka_ ; a pre-pubescent female, if the undeveloped egg sacks on her sides are any indication,” Tosh replied.

“You’ve seen them before?” Suzie asked in surprise. She knew, of course, that Tosh had travelled with the Doctor for a while, but she was still amazed by the knowledge she had collected about alien species during her journeys.

Tosh shrugged. “They’re fairly common in the Shadori Damus system… or will be, some six thousand years from now,”

“Six thousand years, huh?” Suzie asked. “How did it… I mean she get here then?”

“My guess would be that the _A’isha_ took her with him,” Tosh gestured towards the lizard-like alien. “As an egg.”

“As a _what_?”

“ _Deneka_ need about eight of our years to reach full physical maturity,” Tosh explained, “During which time they do not travel through space; it would put too great a strain on their system. So, if they are supposed to grow up on a different planet, they’re transported there as eggs; usually in incubators, so that they can be born on their selected homeworld. This one must have crash-landed on Earth, together with her transport.”

“But that would mean she was born in one of the labs and grew up in this cell,” Suzie said, looking vaguely sick. “How could they do that to a child?”

“ _If it’s alien, it’s ours_ ,” Tosh quoted cynically, looking down at the fragile, dead body of the _Deneka_ that looked like a broken doll. “Although, to be fair, I must also add that _Deneka_ aren’t a completely harmless species. They’re carnivorous predators that can turn on anyone if the hunger takes the upper hand. Like dragonflies: beautiful, but deadly in their larval form.”

“Well, this one isn’t going to harm anyone,” Suzie said. “Let’s see if we find any cold storage units; then you’ll gave to go to that warehouse to help identify dead people – and ain't _that_ gonna be fun?”

“I just wish Jack would arrive as soon as possible,” Tosh muttered. “I really don’t feel like having a confrontation with UNIT about ownership, either over dead aliens or over alien tech.”

“Don’t wet yourself,” Suzie replied coldly. “Once I’m finished with them, they’d _wish_ they had been dealing with Jack.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
As Tosh had predicted, they did find some cold storage units on the lowest sublevel indeed. Some of them held dead Dogon bodies, in various stages of dissection; the others stood empty. They stuffed the alien corpses into the empty units, made a report to Jack who promised to come with the first available UNIT helicopter as soon as the data transfer was complete – then Tosh made her way to the temporary morgue, while Suzie remained behind to examine and seal the labs.

The morgue, established in the half-finished warehouse on the ground level, was the worst nightmare Tosh had ever seen. Row upon row of corpses covered the floor. A trio of UNIT soldiers was methodically walking down each row, taking Polaroid pictures of each body, while other soldiers were still carrying in new corpses. The pictures then were shown to a young man in a badly burned suit, who was sitting on a nearby stool. Sometimes he nodded and scribbled a name on a paper tag, handing it back to one of the soldiers. The soldier put the tag on the body matching the photo and zipped it into a body bag.

Owen came out of one of the side rooms to guide Tosh. He had obviously been helping with the injured, as his hands were bloodied and his white lab coat smudged with soot, blood and other substances Tosh rather did not ask to be identified.

“How many dead?” she asked.

“Hundreds, and that’s _not_ counting the converted ones,” Owen replied grimly. “Cause of death is fairly easy to determine, at least in the case of the human victims: severe trauma to the body (many of them had been hurled against the walls), fire, radiation or chemical burns, depending on whether they were killed by Dalek or Cybermen ray guns or died when their labs exploded. Death by smoke inhalation is fairly common, too.”

“How’s the identification going?” Tosh asked.

“Better than expected,” Owen admitted. “That bloke over there seems to know a lot of the victims from seeing, so if the body is intact, or at least the face more or less undamaged, he can do a fairly good job. You can help out with that face recognition software of yours where he doesn’t recognize someone. As for the rest… we’ll have to go with dental records or DNA testing.”

“DNA testing should work with the fully converted bodies, too,” Tosh said. “At least the brain ought to be intact,” at Owen’s incredulous look, she added sharply. “It wasn’t their fault, you know. On this very morning, they were ordinary human beings like you and me. They didn’t _ask_ to be converted into those monsters.”

Owen reluctantly agreed, and when Tosh insisted on seeing what was going on further down, he walked with her to the far end of the warehouse that was cordoned off by plastic sheeting. From behind those translucent partitions, the sound of power tools could be heard. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt flesh and drying blood.

“Are you sure you want to go in?” Owen asked warningly. “I’m not easily shocked, but I’ve already thrown up twice.”

Tosh nodded. She didn’t really _want_ to see the carnage, but she felt she owed those people a last look. They would most likely be blamed for whatever had gone wrong, simply because people always needed to blame _someone_ , but she was not willing to jump onto that particular bandwagon. These unfortunate ones were _Torchwood_ , just like she was – they deserved a decent farewell, no matter what had happened to them. Especially as it had not even been _their_ fault.

Owen pulled back the plastic sheeting to allow her entrance, and for a moment Tosh was seriously tempted to throw up on the spot. It was a slaughterhouse, plain and simple. People in hazmat suits were dissecting partially converted corpses with electronic saws. The floor around them was littered with metal-covered body parts – mostly arms and legs.

A middle-aged man in a once white lab coat spotted them and hurried over, wiping his hands on a wet rag to be able to greet Tosh.

“Miss Sato?” he asked, shaking her hand. “I’m Chief Medical Officer Oliver Harrington, in charge of the clean-up crews here. Thanks for offering your help with the identification of the bodies.”

“I don’t envy your for the job,” Tosh said honestly. “Is there a reason why your people are… well, _butchering_ these bodies, though?”

Harrington nodded grimly. “Oh, yes. Aside from the, let’s say for clarity’s sake, the _human_ victims, we’ve got five hundred or so fully or partially converted Cybermen here; most of them formally Torchwood personnel, but also quite a few people that had been simply collected from the nearby streets. In no way could we explain so many missing bodies being the result of a terrorist attack. So, if the conversion process hasn’t gone too far, we remove the converted parts, blaming the bombs for the mutilated state of the corpses, patch up the remains as well as we can, and release the bodies to the families. At least they’ll have _something_ to bury; can come to some sort of closure.”

Tosh nodded. It sounded horrible, but at least it did make some sense.

“What about the fully converted bodies, though?” she asked. Doctor Harrington shrugged tiredly.

“There’s nothing to be done. We’ll do the DNA-testing, of course, so that we can be sure who these people used to be, but after that they’ll be incinerated and recorded missing.”

That, again, made horrible sense. Tosh knew better than most that once a human had been converted, even if it was only a partial conversion, they could become active any time and endanger the entire planet. A single Cyberman, programmed with the knowledge of their race, was enough to raise a new Cyber army, and the horror would begin again. Yes, Yvonne _had_ overcome the cyber programming – temporarily at least – but Yvonne had been a woman of extraordinary willpower, fully aware of what was happening to her, and even so, who could tell how long she would have been able to remain her self within that metal suit? This was a risk no-one could afford to take.

“You had to euthanize them,” she said. It was not a question, but Doctor Harrington nodded nevertheless.

“Executing them would be the correct term,” he said glumly. “A head shot was the only thing that worked: destroying the brain that steered the body.”

“I know,” Tosh said. “These people were my colleagues; I even used to know quite a few of them personally. But if I were in their place, I’d prefer a clean and quick death, too.”

“Perhaps,” Doctor Harrington allowed. “I still have the feeling that I’m willingly trodding on my Hippocratic oath, though.”

“I understand that,” Tosh sighed. “But believe me, there’s nothing you could do to help them. Now, where am I supposed to work on the identifications?”

“Choose a quiet corner for yourself,” Harrington said. “The soldiers will show you the photos our local helper doesn’t recognize. Between the two of you, it shouldn’t be hard to put an ID on those who aren’t beyond recognition.”

Tosh nodded and left the gruesome place, selecting a somewhat secluded corner with a small table and a wooden chair to set up her laptop. Among other things, it also had a detachable scanner, no bigger than her palm. She plugged it in and started scanning the Polaroids one of the UNIT soldiers dumped onto the table. As soon as the programme came up with a name, she scribbled it across the photo with an alcoholic marker and laid the picture on the left side.

It was going to be a long process.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This tale has now come to an end. It is basically the bridge between the series "Travellers' Tales" and "Sleeping Dragons"; I just somehow forgot to post it here before.

**EPILOGUE**

As promised, Jack arrived with the first available UNIT helicopter on the next day to help secure the Archives. UNIT, too, had called in even more squads to deal with the aftermath, and Jack did have the one or other confrontation with various UNIT officers about ownership and jurisdiction when it came to the accumulated research data and all kinds of technology.

Most frequently with a certain Captain Marion Price, who – as a member of the Royal Engineers – was understandably interested in every piece of alien tech her subordinates came across. She was a lot less cooperative than Captain Magambo, and even got serious support from her superior, the commanding officer of UNIT’s London headquarters, a Colonel Mace.

Things got so tense so quickly that in the end Jack saw no other solution than to call the Brigadier and ask him to tell Mace and her pet captain to back off – something that he did only reluctantly, because one’s big gun was only effective when used _very_ sparsely. But he was _not_ going to let the obviously trigger-happy Captain Price play around with a particle cannon or any of the dangerous, alien-originated weapons under use or examination at Torchwood One.

Since Torchwood Three had no real use for such weapons, he ordered all of it to be put into storage, sealing said storage with a time lock. One that would only release them when the crucial moment of the twenty-first century – the one in which everything was going to change – would arrive.

Even with the additional help, clean-up took weeks. Jack sent Suzie back to Cardiff to maintain the base with Archie’s help (and to pray for a nice, quiet time, without any considerable Rift activity). Tosh, Owen and himself remained at what was left of Headquarters to salvage what they could. 

Which almost turned out more than they had bargained for.

There had been no need for Tosh to lock down the physical Archives as well, since Jack had arrived just in time to keep UNIT out of them. But the cataloguing system was insanely confusing (unless one knew the basics upon which it had been built, which they did _not_ ), and they could not make heads or tails of it.

It would have been helpful to find a surviving archivist, but with that they had no luck. Only twenty-seven of the eight-hundred-and-some Torchwood One employees had survived, in various stages of injury, shock and mental breakdown. And the only archivist among them, Ianto Jones, had vanished from the radar, right after having his injuries patched up and helped with the identification of the victims. As preliminary psychology tests had found him remarkably stable and coping well enough – which in itself should have been suspicious, but the medical staff had been overworked and glad to have him off their hair – the shrinks saw no reason to keep him under observation… and no-one could tell where he had gone.

“Well, that can’t be helped now,” Jack decided with a frustrated sigh. “We’ll have to load all this stuff on a truck – well, on several trucks as the case may be – and ship everything off to Cardiff. There we’ll see it through, box by box, and eventually transfer whatever we don’t need to Torchwood House.”

“And we should take the trucks and the drivers from … where exactly?” Owen asked with an ironically raised eyebrow.

“We can confiscate the remaining vehicles of Headquarters,” Tosh suggested, “and if you’re nice enough to Captain Magambo, Jack, she might allow you to borrow a couple of drivers from UNIT. She’s a little more reasonable than Captain Price.”

“She won’t stay that way much longer; not after she realizes we’ve Retconned those drivers,” Owen prophesized darkly.

“We’ll have to dose the Retcon very carefully,” Jack agreed. “Use a very mild dose that would allow them to remember that they delivered to us, but not the location itself. It wouldn’t do if they suddenly developed a memory loss worth an hour or so. As long as they forget _where_ exactly they had brought the stuff, I’ll be content.”

“Fortunately, Suzie is the best of us at Retconning,” Tosh said. “Where do you want the Archives to be brought anyway?”

“We’ve got a couple of half-empty warehouses all across Cardiff,” Jack explained. “There’s nothing but a few personal items of deceased Torchwood members in each. That would serve well enough as camouflage. Still, it’s better when the drives don’t remember where each of them is.”

“What will become of the survivors?” Owen asked.

Jack shrugged. “They’re not my responsibility. Once we’ve disposed of those alien bodies in the cells, I’m gonna wash my hands over Torchwood London.”

“I think you’re being a little too cavalier about the whole issue,” Tosh said quietly.

Jack whirled around and gave her an incredulous look. “I beg your pardon?”

Tosh paled considerably but did not back off. This was the first time ever that she would stand up to Jack – until now, she had always avoided any possible confrontation, out of gratitude towards Jack who had, after all, saved her from that UNIT prison; and also out of a healthy amount of fear, as she knew all too well how dangerous Jack could be. But this time she felt she could _not_ remain silent.

“I think that they _are_ your responsibility all right,” she said with a barely trembling voice. “With Yvonne gone, you _are_ the _de facto_ leader of Torchwood; Archie is a good guy, but he clearly doesn’t count. You’re the only one who could and should take care of those twenty-seven people… well, only twenty-six now, as Mr. Jones has obviously taken matters into his own hands.”

“I don’t want to have anything to do with Yvonne’s leftovers,” Jack said harshly. “They’ve always despised me, and let me tell you, the feeling was mutual.”

“I understand that,” Tosh replied steadily. “But Jack, these ‘leftovers’ as you call them, are _people_. Young and brilliant people who gave their absolute best for Torchwood, and what happened wasn’t _their_ fault!”

“Yeah, we all saw where their _best_ had got them… and the rest of the planet,” Jack returned. Tosh rolled her eyes.

“You’re being unfair, and I think you know that. I cannot speak for all eighth-hundred-and-some people working for Headquarters, but I definitely know that Rajesh and Trevor, at the very least, were _not_ driven by any fanatic dreams about a new British Empire. They were scientists who wanted to _learn_ – they worked with what was considered to be all the necessary precautions for handling unknown technology. I’ve seen their lab; I _know_ they were careful.”

“Well, apparently not careful enough,” Owen commented dryly.

“Sure,” Tosh agreed. “The only way to be safe without knowing all possible dangers that might be involved would be – not to handle the stuff at all.”

“Then that’s what they should have done,” Jack said.

“But that’s simply not feasible when your purpose is scientific discovery, and we both know that,” Tosh pointed out. “Big disasters are _always_ happening in areas where scientific or technological innovations are tested.”

“Not in _this_ magnitude, they aren’t,” Jack countered.

“True,” Tosh allowed. “But no-one has ever worked with such completely alien technology before. They didn’t have your knowledge of future tech, but it doesn’t mean that they would have wilfully ignored known and understood dangers. They did their best working with insufficient data – and they screwed up big time, I won’t deny that. It didn’t happen because of blind ignorance, though.”

“Look, Tosh,” Owen interfered, “we all know you’ve had a bit of a thing running with Singh, but…”

“My… _thing_ with Rajesh, as you call it, has nothing to do with the facts how scientific headway is achieved,” Tosh said icily. “Whatever we had, and it’s in no way your business, doesn’t influence my opinion about Headquarters any more than Jack’s personal hatred towards Yvonne influences his. I’m a scientist. I work with facts.”

“And the fact is that One fucked up royally and we should never allow anything to go so terribly wrong ever again,” Jack said. “Which is why I would never hire anyone who used to work for One.”

“Fine,” Tosh replied tiredly. “Be an ignorant fool. I’m sure UNIT and other government agencies, not to mention various universities, will see the situation in a more reasonable light. Trevor and the others will be offered the best possible jobs, and I’m glad about that, because they deserve it. But that still doesn’t release _you_ from the responsibility towards those who need our help. _Torchwood’s_ help.”

“I happen to see it difficulty,” Jack said coolly.

Tosh shrugged. “That’s your choice; it still won’t change the facts. Now, if you don’t need me here any longer today, I’d have a few personal things to deal with.”

“And they would be?” Owen inquired with a crooked grin.

“ _Private_ ,” Tosh answered coldly; then, with a glance at Jack, she added. “It will be in my report.”

Jack nodded. “Go. But I’ll need you back in Cardiff by tomorrow.”

“That’s all right,” Tosh said. “I’ll take the night train.”

She picked up her laptop and left, without even looking back.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Trevor Howard had spent almost a fortnight in the hospital. The doctors wanted to be certain that his concussion, combined with several hairline fractures of the skull, a couple of bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder, wouldn’t lead to any lasting damage. He tried to kill his time with reading, but the splitting headaches did not let him do it for any longer than twenty minutes, tops. Watching the telly was even worse. So he simply lay in his darkened room and tried to sleep the days away.

It was incredibly boring, with his recurring nightmares being the only distraction… and not a pleasant one.

The visitors represented some more welcome distraction in the monotony. The UNIT counsellor came and left after two sessions, since he knew how to give the right answers to get rid of her in the shortest possible time. With basic psychic training all Torchwood employees had received, it wasn’t really hard, and he was glad to see her go. He _hated_ when people tried to poke around in his head; besides, she couldn’t really help him in any way.

On the second day, Jonesy slipped into his room for a short visit, but did not stay long. Trevor didn’t blame him for wanting to vanish from the radar. Had he been capable of leaving, _he_ would have escaped the unwanted attention as well. An archivist had even more reason to take a dive in the faceless masses; especially the only remaining one.

The third visitor was the young cousin of Adeola; a lovely medicine student by the name of Martha Jones. Now _that_ was a visit he had most appreciated. Not only was Martha a pretty and kind person, she was also the only outsider with whom he could talk about the tragic events without feeling the urge to go into defensive mode. They hit off at once, and from that day on, she came back every morning to see him.

He also received a visitor from UNIT: a pretty blonde officer in the rank of a captain, with the badge of the Royal Engineers on her collar – Marion Price. She had come to offer him a job at a UNIT’s engineering research facility; and Trevor, after about a day of consideration, accepted it. What other chance did he have? With the amount of confidential knowledge that he possessed, a job outside of any government agencies would only have been possible for him if he had accepted a massive dose of Retcon. Which, considering that he had worked for Torchwood One for almost eight years, would have reduced him to vegetable state, so it was not an option. Therefore he chose to flee forward.

Captain Harkness from Torchwood Three, now the unofficial leader of the whole organization, did _not_ pay him a visit and frankly, Trevor was thankful for that. He had only met the ‘freak from Cardiff’ once, but he was fairly sure that they would never get along too well. Trevor was not fond of people with the personality of a steamroller. He preferred to work with people like the late Doctor Singh, or like his immediate superior at Cybernetics – sadly, also deceased.

But he was very happy when Torchwood Three’s Doctor Sato had come to see him, right before his release from the hospital. He had only known her for a short time, as the not-quite-girlfriend of Doctor Singh, but he had come to like her very much… on a completely platonic level. She and Doctor Singh would have been a good match, both being quiet, reserved, friendly and brilliant – if only they would have got the chance to make it work.

How someone like her could work with Captain Harkness was a mystery beyond Trevor’s understanding.

Nonetheless, he was glad that she could find the time to visit him – and not only because they could speak of Doctor Singh and the others and come to some sort of closure. There was one more thing he needed to take care of; an important thing that was beyond his current ability to handle, but he hoped it was not beyond _hers_.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he said in a low voice, so that eventual listening devices wouldn’t pick it up, and handed her a small data storage device; an advanced one, developed by Torchwood One and used only there. “Jonesy has come by and dropped it off, but I think you’ll be in a better position to use it.”

“What is it?” Toshiko asked suspiciously.

“Nothing that could get you in trouble, or at least I hope so,” Trevor answered. “Access codes of passwords to certain Torchwood funds, selected for Human Resources. The few of us survivors still capable of working will do well enough for ourselves, I think, but the rest – and the families of those who’ve died at Canary Wharf – will need help. I’m not good with finances and organization, especially not with UNIT looking over my shoulder, which they certainly will do in the first times, and those are the times people will need help most. Do you think you can handle it? At least for a while, until I find the right person to deal with it permanently?”

“I can try,” Toshiko said. “But why me?”

“I heard that Torchwood London is going to be shut down,” Trevor replied grimly, “which means that everything will be swept under the carpet and we will be forgotten. The government or UNIT can’t touch the Torchwood funds – not even the Crown can. They’ve been invested well and placed securely in banks beyond the influence of the UK, so encoded that only the archivists can gain access to them. Which is one of the reasons why Jonesy wanted to go underground, I guess. He’s the only one of them who survived; and since he was officially listed as a junior researcher, no-one outside of Torchwood will discover that he’s actually the key to everything left behind by Headquarters… unless someone babbles.”

“I won’t,” Toshiko promised solemnly.

“I know,” Trevor smiled up to her,” which is why I’m asking you to take care of Human Resources. Forgive me, but I don’t trust Captain Harkness to give a rat’s arse about what’s gonna happen with us… _or_ with our families.”

“He wouldn’t,” Toshiko admitted. “He and I just had a major spat about the issue. He’s hopelessly prejudiced against Headquarters, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t really blame him,” Trevor said fairly. “I liked Yvonne, we all did, working for her was absolutely inspiring, but… she could be a real bitch if she hated someone. And she _did_ hate Captain Harkness with a passion.”

“According to Jack, the feeling was mutual,” Toshiko grinned tiredly.

“I can imagine,” Trevor grinned back. “They’re – _were_ – both stubborn, headstrong, ruthless people with diagonally opposite visions of how things should be done. Not the best combination for people who are supposed to work together. So… are you going to do this? _Will_ you be able to do this, with him breathing down his neck?”

“For a while, yes; but not infinitely,” Toshiko clarified. “Sooner or later, Jack will realize that I’m up to something, and I won’t – _can’t_ – lie to him. I owe him too much: my life, my sanity… everything that I am now.”

“For a while only,” Trevor agreed. “I promise I’ll do my best to find a replacement in the shortest possible time,” he paused. “I’ve added my personal contact number to the data; it’s a secure phone, Torchwood issue. I’d like to keep in touch, if possible.”

Toshiko smiled. “That can be arranged. I do have a personal life… well, sometimes. Rift permitting.”

Trevor nodded. He knew how unpredictable the Cardiff Rift could be and how small the Cardiff outpost was. That did not leave the individual members much of a personal life.

“When are you going back to Cardiff?” he asked.

“With the night train,” Toshiko answered. “There is one more visit I have to make before I leave London.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Soraya Singh had been following the news about the terrorist attack on Canary Wharf with growing anxiety. Unlike her brother, she was a simple woman, not interested in science or in politics, who found total fulfilment in raising Rajesh’s children, as she had no family of her own. They were nice kids, pretty and well-behaved; she could not understand how their mother could have given them up. No matter what might have happened between her and Rajesh.

Soraya loved her brother but was not completely blind towards his faults. She knew Rajesh could become so absorbed in his work that he would completely forget about everything else around him. But was that a reason to abandon one’s own children? She simply could not understand that. Shanti and Rajeev certainly filled _her_ life with joy.

She had tried to call her brother several times when the first news had appeared about the terrorist attack. Mobile phones did not work within Canary Wharf, she knew that, but Rajesh had given her an emergency number through which she should have been able to contact him in extreme cases. Some kind of secure landline.

Only that she could _not_ contact him. No-one answered her calls.

Around noon, on the same day, the telly started showing horrible pictures of Canary Wharf: pictures of the burning tower of One Canada Square; of dead bodies littering the pavement; of strange-looking robots marching on the streets in closed, endless columns. She ran to the school to get the children back; got nearly shot by the same soldiers wearing those strange red caps who were shooting at the robots; then again by weird, floating devices that looked like oversized pepper pots.

She was certain that the world was going to end.

And then it all ended in a moment. The robots and the pepper pots were gone, and people slowly, reluctantly emerged from their homes. She reached the school, found the frightened children, took them home, fed them, tried to clam them down and put them to bed when they finally passed out from exhaustion.

And then the waiting began again.

For weeks, there was no news from Canary Wharf. Rajesh still had not answered her calls. Neither the police, nor the government had released any information, beyond the short statement that Canary Wharf had been destroyed by an extremely violent terrorist bombing and most of the eight hundred employees were dead or missing.

There were no casualty lists, however, no information about whether or not the bodies would be released to the families, and if yes, when. The entire Canary Wharf area was still sealed off and declared off-limits for the public.

Anxiety was killing her.

Finally, more than two weeks after the attack, it was almost dark in the outside, the doorbell rang. She went to answer it with a very bad feeling. Rajesh had a key to her house; would he be, by some miracle, returning, he would not have to ring the bell. And she had already talked on the phone to everyone from the family, assuring them that she did not need any help at the moment, so they had no reason to come over.

She opened the door and saw a petite, elegant Asian woman standing on her doorstep.

“Ms Singh?” the woman asked in a gently, almost child-like voice. “I’m Toshiko Sato. I am… _was_ … a colleague of your brother. Well, sort of. I work for a different branch.”

Soraya nodded. “I know who you are, Miss Sato. Raji has told me about you,” suddenly, she realized that the other woman had used the past tense and blanched. “You mean… is he…?”

Toshiko nodded. “I’m very sorry, Ms Singh. He was one of the first to die. He tried to stop the… the terrorists, and they shot him on the spot,” she closed her eyes for a moment in obvious pain. “He was… he died almost immediately.”

Soraya gave her a searching look. “You were there?”

Toshiko nodded again. “There was nothing I could do to help him. I’m so very sorry.”

“At least he didn’t die alone,” Soraya’s tears started to flow freely but she ignored them. “Can we… will we be allowed to bury him? I know that the government sometimes… sometimes insists on incinerating the bodies after terrorist attacks…”

“Not in this case,” Toshiko replied. “The bodies of all identified victims will be released to the families shortly. But I have to warn you: it will have to be a closed-coffin funeral. He… he burned badly after his death. The face is still recognizable, but the rest of him is in a bad shape. Perhaps it would be better if the family could remember him the way he used to be.”

“Better for the children perhaps,” Soraya said, “but _I need_ to see him. He was my brother, and I must be sure that we’d be sent the right body, even if we’ll have it cremated, according to our tradition. Forgive me, but I… I don’t trust the government completely.”

Toshiko nodded. “I understand that. And don’t worry about the costs; Torchwood will cover them. There will also be funds for the children, so that they can receive a proper education. What’s happened was horrible, but we take care of our own.

It hurt her to know that _we_ did not include Jack in this particular case, but Rajesh’s sister did not need to know that. Wouldn’t even understand.

“He loved you, you know,” Soraya said quietly. “He used to talk about you sometimes; hoped you two could make this relationship work, despite the distance between London and Cardiff.”

“I was just coming to learn how to love him,” Toshiko admitted, her eyes dry but terribly sad. “We might even have found a way to make it work. Your brother was a wonderful man. I’ll miss him terribly.”

“So will we,” Soraya sighed. “You won’t be able to come to the funeral, though, will you?”

Toshiko shook her head in regret. “I don’t think so. I’ll take the night train back to Cardiff right away, and I’m unlikely to come back to London any time, soon.”

“But if you do,” Soraya said, “try to find the time to drop by. You’re part of our life now. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tosh promised, hoping that she would be able to keep that promise. 

She did not want to forget Rajesh. And the future of his children was part of her responsibility now. A responsibility Trevor had entrusted to her, even if only temporarily.

~The End~


End file.
